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Literature Text
Sometimes I like to pretend that
I'm God, putting a pen to
paper and scripting out someone's
life like a puppeteer.
Maybe if I
wrote the epilogue in
my own blood, the
screams inside my
head wouldn't be as
loud.
"They aren't
real," is just an excuse
for killing off their
loved ones; I want to feel
their agony tenfold (because I
deserve to think I'm as heartless
as I feel).
I'm God, putting a pen to
paper and scripting out someone's
life like a puppeteer.
Maybe if I
wrote the epilogue in
my own blood, the
screams inside my
head wouldn't be as
loud.
"They aren't
real," is just an excuse
for killing off their
loved ones; I want to feel
their agony tenfold (because I
deserve to think I'm as heartless
as I feel).
Literature
I Like To Play With Skin
I Like To Play With Skin:
Breathe -
My dear friends and watch,
As the feeling of life itself
Crumbles beneath each ounce of pain.
Needles slowly piercing into the body,
Paralyzing nerves and expressions.
A mask of pure horror; living terror,
Kept alive on the barest limit of the border.
Such tempting features,
Leave me eager to slip a knife beneath flesh.
Ripping soft layers of epidermal mache,
Tanned and dried, woven slowly into a loving mask.
And with my latest acquisition complete,
Only twenty spaces remain...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 28th April 2013
Literature
I wish...
I wish I was a monster
So I could be kind
And break the stereotypes.
I wish I was colored
So I could respect people
And break the stereotypes.
I wish I was a man
So I could be kind to women
And break the stereotypes.
I wish I had male friends
So we could all be..
Just friends
And break the stereotypes.
I wish I had autism
So I could prove that autism,
Does NOT mean "dumb".
And I could break the stereotypes.
I wish I could change the world.
But sometimes, you can't break a stereotype.
Only stereotypes, can break you.
Literature
Doll
Barbie’s thighs were not meant to touch;
her hair is devoid of split ends
and there's this deadness in her eyes,
impossible to mimic—a quiet crawlspace without light.
There's a pastel pale to her skin,
hairless and unblemished,
a blank un-crevice between her legs
and her rouge-stained lips are ever smiling.
She is nothing like you, child.
But do not forget
that she borrows your voice.
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Another one of my secret series poems.
The secret: "I like to make my characters in my stories suffer because I feel like I deserve it."
My secret blog is here: [link]
I really like this one because I related to it.
The secret: "I like to make my characters in my stories suffer because I feel like I deserve it."
My secret blog is here: [link]
I really like this one because I related to it.
© 2013 - 2024 lupus-astra
Comments43
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Woah. This is really deep. Love it