My mistakes have taken a toll on me
In many aspects of my life
I no longer feel pretty without makeup on
Because i can see the secrets hidden under my skin
I no longer feel confident in revealing clothing
Because i know the insecurities lying underneath the remaining cloth
Mistakes are things you learn from
And I have learned plenty.
I have learned that i am not the person i think i am
Im a coward
I constantly hide my flaws while shaming other peoples
And i make myself into a different person so i can be liked,
Then make fun of those who are unique
Im a fool for ever thinking i was pretty
Because being pretty isn't just your face or your body
It's the thoughts and soul behind those things
The way you process a compliment, and how you respond
Or what you think when someone is different from you
These thoughts and actions show who you are, or who you are trying to be
And i have realized i have lost myself in this foreign body
This is not mine, I am a fake.
Emily (part 2.2)
From the outreach of my hand
I can feel you
From my eyes I want to
Bewitch you
From look in my eye I want you
Only because I fell
In love with you
From the shore of the Atlantic
To shore of Lake Erie
I row a boat to get you
Take you in my arms
Kiss you until you cry out
Love me
The sky opens up with the sun
It time for us to have some fun
Walking the beach
Snuggles under cover
Swimming nude together
Living a loving life
Got you under my skin
You let me in
Every so softly I sung
From East Coast to the west Coast
My find will outdo the rest
She has beauty from out and in
Love the feeling of her skin
We kiss and hug and love
she is my lady
Emily
The sky is on fire tonight, clouds feather rapturously around the horizon
It seems even the longest arms cannot reach heaven
I'd rather lie here with what I know to be holy
In this place I am crimson
The blood under my skin is singing a song that only we know
I pick and scratch and stretch
Mutilate
Infect
Bleed
It drives me, separate
From relief
Akin to hunger.
Manual breathing
Counting
The minutes
The bites
The steps
Call it a quirk
I name it demand.
Addiction
What is an addict…
There is no powder
Or liquid
But still I feel ants under my skin
Until the ritual is complete.
Compulsion is one thing
Obsession another
But when the two meet,
The horseman ride
And I don’t know if the end will come.
Here comes that guy, he gets under my skin,
well I don’t even know just where to begin.
All he talks about is God, how boring can that be,
it seems like he wants to hang out with me.
We have nothing in common, to even talk about,
the more he speaks the more I want to shout!
I try and change the conversation, it just don’t work,
doesn’t he know he is really being a jerk?
That gets old fast doesn’t he have anything else to say?
I wish he would hurry up and scurry away!
Constantly on and on, all about God, you see,
oh this man is really starting to get to me.
He really does me no wrong, it’s how he makes me feel,
just his presence seems to be so surreal.
I mean who just talks about God, I’m asking you,
do you know anyone like this, what would you do?
They have been very polite, helpful, and caring you see,
it’s just all about God, ain’t for me.
He has done nothing wrong to me at all I say,
when he comes around I want him to go away.
When he is gone, ya know what bothers me the most?
I think he said, it was called, the Holy Ghost……
my house is my body.
i live in it
like someone who just arrived
with too many boxes
and no map.
my house is sometimes quiet,
not empty, just resting.
the kind of silence that feels like sunday afternoons
and dust floating in the sun.
sometimes it hums,
a low noise under my skin,
reminding me i’m here.
my house has rooms i visit slowly.
a small one behind my ribs
where i keep thoughts folded neatly,
not hidden, just waiting.
a kitchen where i feed myself hope
even when i’m not hungry.
my house feels warm with others.
voices in the hallway.
music in the air.
when i’m alone, it cools,
but it’s never empty.
there’s always something soft to hold.
my house has walls that know me.
they’ve heard thoughts
before i trusted them with my mouth.
they don’t answer back.
they don’t leave.
my house moves at night.
my heart walking around.
my bones settling in.
i tell myself it’s normal,
houses move when they’re lived in.
my house isn’t perfect.
it has cracks.
but light gets in anyway.
i don’t always love this place,
but i stay.
i open windows.
i learn.
because this house,
unfinished and breathing,
is mine.
Classical music cleanse my soul
For thy sweet melody is purest soul of artism
The mood of requiem is of sweet heaven serenade
It roams my mind , echoes in my ears to forever remain in my heart
The vocals are of angelic melodies
Soothing strained nerves of my heart and mind
Thy shake the blood under my skin
An awakening of true mastery of artism
Spewed by the stream of talented melodious voices and instruments
I thought it was love, but I guess I was blind,
You just played pretend and toyed with my mind.
I gave you my heart, my soul, every year.
Returned was your silence, your distance, and your love never here.
I thought maybe one day you’d love me the same-how foolish to know
I was your puppet on a string.
The harder I tried, the more I gave,
The deeper my heart got swept under the wave.
I built us a future and dreamed you’d be there.
But you never showed up, I looked for you everywhere.
Your love never deepened, it stayed cold and thin,
While I wore my heart raw, bleeding under my skin.
You stayed the same, while I broke and burned,
And all that I offered was never returned.
I gave you it all, every tear, every touch-
But you never once loved me, not even half as much.
I know now what I finally must do.
To love me much more and stop trying to love you.
(Verse 1)
This empty room still hums your favorite song,
Sunlight cuts the dust where your laugh belonged.
I trace the cracks in every worn-out tile,
Searching for your shadow one more mile.
(Chorus)
**I can still feel you like a phantom limb—**
A ghost in every room, under my skin.
This house is just a cage of might-have-beens...
*I reach for you, but all I touch is wind.*
(Verse 2)
Your coffee cup’s a fossil on the shelf,
I talk to it like I talk to myself.
That sweater in the closet still holds heat,
Smells of rain and old dreams, bittersweet.
(Chorus)
**I can still feel you like a phantom limb—**
A ghost in every room, under my skin.
This house is just a cage of might-have-beens...
*I reach for you, but all I touch is wind.*
(Bridge)
The neighbors say, *"You should turn the page..."*
But how do I quit a ghost I still stage?
These walls rehearse the echo of your name—
A silent fire only you could tame.
(Outro Chorus)
**I can still feel you like a phantom limb...**
*(Whispered, fading)*
*...All I touch is wind.*
In the shadowed corners of my thoughts,
In a whisper,
not heard,
l i n g e r s— unseen by the eye but
felt.
A tremor under my skin,
a pulse of doubt's steady march,
where questions collide with silence,
I own rooms in these echo chambers
which contain scattered dreams
Sometimes
in what seems like
perpetual night.
These voices, a cacophony of din,
ring in my head, but most of them aren't mine.
Somehow, they found their way under my skin.
Most are not nice, anything but benign,
masquerading as my true voice within.
Their suggestions, it's better to decline.
They tell me I must do all kinds of stuff,
because, otherwise, I'm not good enough.
Oftentimes, a voice has rescued me -
the one that says, "you're down, but you're not sunk",
when there's no shred of hope that I can see.
It says, "take one step" to shake off my funk,
when my life feels so bad, I want to flee,
it helps me face troubles from which I've shrunk.
Because of these encouragements I am alive.
They tell me what I must do to survive.
Another voice, I like more than the rest.
Inspires me to discover and create,
to love with the heart beating in my chest,
who says, "the time is now, no time to wait,
your love, my friend, must always be expressed",
and, day and night, it leaves me feeling great.
These are the words that show me how to give,
not self-blame, or just survive, but to live.
You crawl under my skin
Again, uninvited this time
Drinking my sorrow
Your tail whips around my heart
Drawn in by the cold
Darkness you know so well
To look but not to touch
A sad spectacle to visit
But visit is all
Soak up vulnerability
Bathe in the grief
Wash off, walk home
Leave me with the well
Where undrinkable water lives
Crumbs to decorate it
Furtive missives of absolution
Dig and scrape to pry you
Draw you out from under skin
Let you down so slowly
To silently await your return
Candle glow at midnight
The hatch is locked
A scrambling splutter
As I reach for the key of circles and bolts and lines
But just as before
The circle ends
Four corners behind
And I'm scrambling again for another key
I plead the glow as I–
Well, do I cherish my existence once more?
Foot taps to the humming
Blood rushing under my skin
I'm thrown to the couch
A corner, I curb
Did I feel the end? Was there an end in sight?
My head tilts, and I
Can't quite seem to keep the colours
Steady in my mind
For better or worse, I do mind
Do I love?
I don't love, I don't love, I don't love
I don't love. I do love. I don't love. I do love.
Candle glow at midnight,
The hatch is locked
A scrambling splutter
As I reach for the key of circles, bolts and lines.
But just as before. The circle ends 4 corners behind
And I'm scrambling again for another key
I plead the glow;
It flickers as I-
Well, I,
I cherish my existence once more
As another circle starts to grow...
My foot taps to the humming,
Blood rushing under my skin, I'm thrown to the couch–
It's way past midnight. Immobile, so I curb the corner.
Did I feel the end?
For better or worse, the hatch unlocks, no key.
My head tilts, and
I can't seem
To keep the colours uniform again.
I spiral to only splatters of *pink* and *green* caressing the wall
Overwhelmingly.
Please, don't, love.
But I do, do I? FOR WHAT PURPOSE?
I plead once more.
And become void, I hate. I hate. I hate.
But only pink could resonate.
Beyond these plastic shades
There is a glow.
I can let it in,
Or I can bid it go.
Some days it is welcome.
I shout, Come on in.
Others, the brightness
Gets under my skin.
My fellows think it sad.
They whisper I'm mad,
That I've come undone.
When it is they
Who don't know
The peace of the dark,
The death of the glow.
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