Paradox
These violent delights all meet violent ends
Surface too quickly, and you get the bends
Glutinous portions of all you can eat
Bitter reminder you thought was so sweet
Error, implosive; mistake number ten
Still you repeat it and do it again
Merry and jolly, unseen by the task
Worn to keep covered the darkness you mask
Laughter will merely just cover the tears
Shed over losing, the greatest of fears
Revelries squandered, good taste and good will
Partying parlor; events than can kill
Taste of the yolk sack; the embryo womb
Rotten and listless, the fetus's tomb
Rock and a hard place; the fall from up high
Living like eagles but humans can't fly
Tripping on falsehoods, the wound never mends
These violent delights all meet violent ends
F*** Innocence
The pillow muffles my screams of agony. Why is it whenever I try to cut myself it doesn't turn out the way I want it to be?
F*** innocence. By the time I knew what it truly meant, I was already immersed, sunken deep into the sea of reality.
Bitch.
Hypocrite.
F*** you.
All those words were already slung my way, when I was barely even a teen. I was soooo innocent I barely knew what those words were. But my friends knew though, using them freely around me.
After that I learnt suicide. The beautiful act of killing yourself. The marks on my arm speaks for themselves. But reality has a way of not killing you and sinking you deeper into it, increasing your suffering. The vulgarities increased, and all the negative things started to suffocate me, leaving me gasping for air.
I throw the pillow of my head.
You're innocent? Please. Everyone isn't innocent, or will remain innocent for long.
