DissectedButterfly's profile

Dear You, Everything is different now, and yet it's all the same. Inside I am different. Outside, everything is the same. Same people same classes same homework and teachers and lunch schedules. Same work place... Inside, I am torn I am bitter I am angry at you and at God. I am unstable. I am constantly climbing and then falling, building walls and then breaking. I am constantly loving and then wishing. Hoping. Praying. Trying. Fading. Finding out that you don't ever want me back. I'm tired o...

Each night that I spend is not spent alone. It is always here. Lurking in the shadows. And, when the lights go out and I am embedded so deeply within the crevices of my sheets, It comes crawling forth. The Darkness claws its way under my eyelids. It plunders its way down my throat, choking the air from my lungs like the smoke from stale cigarettes. It whispers in my ear every bitter thought and every daunting fear that lies dormant in the day. There is nothing to distract me. No one to pull m...

My mind can only hold so much within its ragged edges, and his voice keeps floating there. Playing over and over again like some old broken record, scratching through the same line until my mind feels numb and the tips of my fingers run across the blade. His words are a noose pulled taught around my throat, shaking the sobs down, holding them in and holding them at bay. At the same time, these words are hot fingers pulling the tears from behind my eyes, dragging them down my cheeks and slipp...

I am cutting myself tonight. But, first, I have to take apart one of those pink-plastic razors. Then, I use that tiny blade to edge across my arm the feelings that creep forward with glistening tears. One thin line that slowly eases red. Then another. Quicker and with more force I drive the sickly silver blade through vulnerable skin. Another. And another. I don't count them. Why bother? I just watch the blood rush from me, forming little beads that fill to their capacity before bursting and...

A single flower falls to the ground. A single tear, a single frown. The small oak coffin lowered down, The Fathers voice the only sound. Silent cries and silent tears, Silent memories of happy years. This is the object of people’s fears, Over their mind, death leers.