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Literature Text
There is writing on my mirror.
Writing in lipstick,
Charting my feelings,
The feelings I feel,
Deep inside.
Each day I add
To the growing mirror mural,
And now it is so covered
I can barely see myself.
Today was amazing everything went right and it felt as though everything I worked towards paid off and I've never been so happy in my whole entire life I'm so happy I cannot sleep I just want to dance and sing and walk and never stop and live and live until the world ends.
Look at you. Staring at me. Who do you think you are?
You're ugly.
Worthless.
Nothing you have ever achieved has been substantial. Why do you think you're so special.
You're shit.
You may as well end it all.
I'm so happy he loves me and he told me he loves me and I love him and now I think everything is special again and I don't know but I'll be happy now and he won't ever let me fall I promise I won't fall again I won't eat pills I won't cut my arms because he'll always be there to catch me and keep me and love me.
Stupid child.
How could you have ever thought he loved you?
Nobody could love you
You tricked him into thinking you were normal.
And now he's found out what are you now,
Where are you now?
Alone.
You're too fat, too ugly, too pointless to be ever loved.
Just.
Give up.
Sometimes I am happy.
Others I am not.
For months at a time I can live, be ecstatic, fly on wings of garbled joy.
And then it'll come.
Burying me alive.
Killing me.
Tight, snatching fingers pulling me down.
Reminding me I can never be like them.
Never be normal.
Live becomes death and death becomes life.
A reliant cycle.
And now, as I stare at myself through blinds of lipstick writing,
Hollow eyes,
Thin lips,
Pale face.
Pale like the brow of dawn.
I know. I am me.
That's all I'll ever be.
But I need help. And I can have help.
If I let it.
I am me.
That's all I'll ever be.
Writing in lipstick,
Charting my feelings,
The feelings I feel,
Deep inside.
Each day I add
To the growing mirror mural,
And now it is so covered
I can barely see myself.
Today was amazing everything went right and it felt as though everything I worked towards paid off and I've never been so happy in my whole entire life I'm so happy I cannot sleep I just want to dance and sing and walk and never stop and live and live until the world ends.
Look at you. Staring at me. Who do you think you are?
You're ugly.
Worthless.
Nothing you have ever achieved has been substantial. Why do you think you're so special.
You're shit.
You may as well end it all.
I'm so happy he loves me and he told me he loves me and I love him and now I think everything is special again and I don't know but I'll be happy now and he won't ever let me fall I promise I won't fall again I won't eat pills I won't cut my arms because he'll always be there to catch me and keep me and love me.
Stupid child.
How could you have ever thought he loved you?
Nobody could love you
You tricked him into thinking you were normal.
And now he's found out what are you now,
Where are you now?
Alone.
You're too fat, too ugly, too pointless to be ever loved.
Just.
Give up.
Sometimes I am happy.
Others I am not.
For months at a time I can live, be ecstatic, fly on wings of garbled joy.
And then it'll come.
Burying me alive.
Killing me.
Tight, snatching fingers pulling me down.
Reminding me I can never be like them.
Never be normal.
Live becomes death and death becomes life.
A reliant cycle.
And now, as I stare at myself through blinds of lipstick writing,
Hollow eyes,
Thin lips,
Pale face.
Pale like the brow of dawn.
I know. I am me.
That's all I'll ever be.
But I need help. And I can have help.
If I let it.
I am me.
That's all I'll ever be.
Literature
Have You Ever...?
Have you ever wanted
To strangle someone
Just because
They were there?
Have you ever wished
Someone be dead
Because of
What they've said?
Do you ever yearn
To light someone aflame
Because they
Did something wrong?
Maybe it's just me
And I'm just demented
But I don't think I'm alone
With the things I've presented...
Literature
.:Heaven and Hell:.
Evil thoughts grasp my head.
and pull me into the darkness of my mind.
pulling me down.
eyes watch.
growling at my every move.
wanting to kill...
The demon at the window
Protected by a warm, light.
keeping the demons at bay.
wings like golden sun.
eyes like the sky.
a little voice in my head will say
"you are safe now, dear"
The angel by my side
heaven and hell.
they fight for me everyday.
why my soul?
what makes me worth of protecting?
why do the demons want me dead?
and the angels for me to live?
Thoughts pass through my head.
red and blue mix and fight.
tapping at the window.
warmth in my soul.
whispers in the dark.
dreams of life.
t
Literature
Drinking in your voice
She had a voice like a cool glass of water in the midst of a dry, hostile desert - refreshing, calm; chilled but not frozen, serene but not languid. The ugliness of her face and figure could almost be forgotten when hearing the stream of speech flow by. She made hideous words ring like ivory bells - not silver. Silver? Too common; anyone can have a silver voice. No, hers was carved of ivory, incandescently glowing. Creamy bone, splashed with drops of shining beauty. I listened to it and was lost.
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This is awesome