TrashedWithABitterSweetEnding19’s blog

  1. It's Not Ironic, It's Obvious.

    Wed, Aug 3, 2011 at 1:10 AM 10 Comments

    I'm a LIAR because I won't tell everything. I can't put everything into words or I don't want to hurt anyone. I'm STUPID because sometimes I am wrong. I'm NOT perfect. I'm UGLY because I'm not as pretty as another girl. I'm NOT a model. I DO NOT photoshop my pictures to be perfect. I'm a PUSHOVER because I like making people happy. I actually care about...

  2. Fall asleep and dream forever . . . Choose fantasy over reality because no matter how perfect . . . or horrible it all may seem. At least in the end . . . it was NEVER REAL. Just like me.

  3. October skies, painted red with anger and the season of decay. An eerie mist after a downpour devours every inch of light . . . Leaves all beauty shrouded by thick blankets of fog, ripping through the sky. You could almost see the air curling around your fingers . . . Out of sight, it all seems surreal . . . nothing but a dream. Simple, in the mystery of night that signals the...

  4. Those piercing sounds of laughter - mocking me. Reaching octaves provoking insanity, the sound pulses through my veins . . . Fuels the anger that has come to confine me inside this cage. Sticks and stones, break my bones and seal thy fate. Rise from the layers of rest and be forever prone to that sound of murder. It kills every ounce of balance . . . A newfound joy.

  5. Revenge, So Wicked Yet Divine.

    Wed, Aug 3, 2011 at 12:18 AM 2 Comments

    Heat of flames, this solid hatred . . . I feel the soothing cold of raindrops, tears of that make believe - heaven's, quiet and calm . . . into serenity. Depression known to the world. All those who dare look upon this invisible personality I've perfected in company . . . A smile, only to avoid questioning. Set free the shackles that bind me to emotion, my heart and it's constant...

  6. A Reason For Broken Wings;

    Wed, Aug 3, 2011 at 12:12 AM 0 Comments

    Silence - the sweetest sound . . . It swoons thy self with sour, explore past the midnight hour with a knife. Torture to refrain, play to hate, create to destroy. Fate is inevitable . . . Man is a plague, the seven of sins held strong and used as weapons in this life. When the time comes . . . bury me, promised with revenge upon all those who deserve their just ridicule. May their...

  7. Do You Think So, Precious?

    Wed, Aug 3, 2011 at 12:04 AM 2 Comments

    Anything . . . Everything begins with a simple touch on that skin, so pale and almost translucent. Plastered against the soul of hate. The sweet misfortune of lips pressed on the fragile flower, begging for acceptance. A complex puzzle waiting to be conquered by the hero who proves himself worthy. Unwravel the mystery, delightful when claiming your prize . . . The excruciating...

  8. Those emotional walls we build . . . Every defense we create is beat down by the hammering of envy and intimidation. We don't feel like ourselves, we ARE NOT ourselves. Hearts racing and the protection we seek crumbles all around us . . . it's easy, we are prone through repetition. Colours and luster fade as the years go by, never to be restored . . . only worsen in time. We drown in...

  9. An Instrument Come To Life, Broken.

    Tue, Aug 2, 2011 at 10:17 PM 3 Comments

    A brand new guitar . . . the strings having been wound so tight until they eventually snapped. The lyrical melodies became worn and demented by the fathoms of sadness that once created a beautiful brilliance. Torn and permanently damaged, changed for the worst . . . There's nothing left here, except an endless sorrow that showers these decaying tunes. There is no longer any warmth,...

  10. No Love and Luxury . . .

    Tue, Aug 2, 2011 at 7:38 PM 3 Comments

    I never thought anything could ever break me more than I already am . . . I'm curled up in a ball, fingers ripping at my hair, and thoughts of wanting to escape the reality that threatens to kill me, now clouds my mind. My head began to swoon, pounding, overwhelmed by the truth. I'm not sure whether I will cry or not, the tears are in my eyes and ready to break free . . . but this river of...

Newsletter Signup