A Garden of Overgrown Emotion

You serve as the wrong type of inspiration.

Invoking pain,


And an intense kind of desperation.


You drew me in with your lonely, troubled mind.

I wished to change,


And release the darkness that was strongly confined.


I was hypnotized by your willingness for me;

To always be there,

That much I needed,

But the rest of you I couldn’t see.


Until my friends would break me from the haze;

My fate revealed

But only temporarily

Until you locked me back into your gaze.


I wonder if I’ll ever escape

Or if this will be my reality.

Is it a matter of strength

Or am I trapped to bare this brutality.


Deceiving looks,

Promising myself

Eventually, I will be okay.


Painful nights.

Followed by a sense

Of promising light that seems to quickly fade away.


Is this how it works,

Being in love?

Or is our garden overgrown.


Is it game of intensified emotions

That consumes its players?

Or is this relationship overblown.


Is the downfall worth the gain?

Is the passion worth the pain?

I would miss you.


Is this really how it’s played?

Does true love cut like a blade?

I can push through.

But yet again,

I have changed.

A pleasant girl

Now deranged

His darkness


Her aspirations



put second-place

To the one thing

She wished not to lose,

When he’s the one thing

That she should.


Which Truth is True

Maybe it’s the rain, releasing all of my trapped emotions.

The pitter-patter on my bedroom window has always served as a relieving sense of inspiration for my fingertips.  It always seems to release some of my darkest kept feelings in the back of my mind that I beg myself never to let out.  But here I am,  pleading my mind to open the door to how I really feel, instead of playing into this reality of dealing with a seemingly unremovable demon, that I really could change if I could just bare the temporary consequences. But it’s always for someone else.  I continue to live through emotional strain to save someone else from hearing the painful truth.  I’m not sure if that makes me a bad person for leading people on, or a good one for carrying the load off of someone else’s shoulders.

I suppose I can’t live like this forever.  Eventually I will be forced to tell the truth to the people I am deceiving, or I will forever be damned in this unforgiving reality.

It just terrifies me to think that telling the truth could have such a tragic effect on someone.  I have seen it before: as I begin to lift the shades holding back my true feelings, the life of the person I was telling it too began to derail and I quickly did my best to minimize the damage and put the train back onto its broken tracks.

I think I began to believe it.  Either the part of me that was restraining my mask gave up or I forced this truth onto myself so harshly that I absorbed it and made it my own.  Sometimes I truly do feel happy, but there are occasional reminders that seem to bring me back home to where I know this is false.  I  miss the way things used to be.  I was once innocent, happy, and content with my own life.   I guess you could still am, but there’s just this constant gray cloud looming over my shoulder that occasionally makes room for the sun, but frequently produces storms.  The worst part is that the smallest things can trigger a hurricane that can sweep through my day and wipe me clean of all of my emotions and energy.  I never know the storms coming until it’s too late, so there’s no way to look for shelter.


I wonder if the words I am speaking now are even the truth.  I have lied to myself so much in the past two years, that I can’t even tell if the emotions I am feeling in the safety of my own mind are real.  Am I truly releasing my  true emotions right now, or is this just the result of my latest fake pursual?


My cold bedroom floor pulls me apart
As my mind unravels.
My spine aches from the solid wood
Yet it seems to comfort me.
The gray light burning in the clouds
Sneaks in around the shades pulled shut.
I listen to the freezing rain knocking on my window
Wondering if I should let it in;
Open myself up to the cold
And let it devour my already wasted soul,
Freezing in place my fate
That has been decided from the start.


Mascara stained shirts

Blood shot eyes

I stare into the blank space

My eyes burning

No one understood

That it was too much

So I drifted off

In my own tears

Forgetting the stress

Forgetting the pain

The sanity I clutched so tightly,

My hands trembling


Kicking and screaming

My vision went blurry

Knocking out people as I went

When I smashed against the ground

Realizing I had hit the bottom

My vision cleared

And all I saw was the aftermath of ruble and glass

Beautiful friendships

Beautiful realities

All I had worked so hard for

Shattered through my blindness

I tried to put them back together

But the cuts were too deep

The mistakes too unforgiving

I guess it was bound to happen

I was a rubber band stretched to the max

Just waiting to snap

And that’s just what I did.

When the Music Stops

Record spinning beneath a single burning candle,

Fighting the darkness settling in.

Your hands grasp my hips

As we sway back and fourth to the music

Filling the air with hope;

Hope that I can over come

This burning uncertainty in my lungs.

Your wind is free of worry,

Settling into the cold basement floor

With the dormant dust.

This fickle love that only I can see

Is rotting away at every last drop of faith I have,

Draining out of the tips of my fingers.

As the last beam of the setting sun reaches through the window,

The room is eaten by dominating darkness

And the single candle is left to luminate the room entirely on its own.

The song begins to fade away,

Leaving the startling sound of the needle scraping the center of the vinyl.

The music stops,

The light blows out,

And you open your eyes.