Poetry

THE FAÇADE.

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Under the façade of sarcasm and insults
Hides an insecure girl who is trying to hide her most recent wounds.
They are fresh, gaping, bleeding.
She hopes nobody would smell the stench of hurt.
She hopes nobody sees through to the bone deep disappointment.

Under the façade of winged eyeliner and smoky eyes
Cowers an ugly girl who hates the curve of her hips and the thick of her thighs.
She hates it so much.
She hopes nobody ever discovers how deep that hate runs.
Her fuck-all attitude is all she has left.

Under the façade of the resting bitch face
Lives a mean cunt who used to burst into laughter at the dumbest of things.
Her laughter was the weirdest sound.
She hopes nobody hears it again.
She doesn’t want to be funnier than the joke anymore.

Under the façade of the rebel
Survives the most difficult shit they ever came across.
Why does she have to make everything so difficult?
Why is she so stubborn?
Why does she never listen?
She hopes nobody discovers she had listened a little too well once upon a time.
She doesn’t want anybody to hear her agreement when it isn’t given, ever again.

She wants to be heard loud and clear when she smacks that asshole with the big no of her rebellion.
She wants to laugh in the face of the rejection of “Boys will be Boys”.
She wants to embrace her curves when they won’t pose a risk of her wanting it.
She wants to accept her dose of pain when she believes her wounds will be scars one day;
When she believes they can heal.

She doesn’t yet.
And if she doesn’t ever, she will be the sarcastic bitch with the fuck-all attitude who can rebel like nobody’s business.
It’s more fun anyway.

-a-

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Cheerleader.

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Yada Yada: STEREOTYPES.

I wonder if the cheerleader feels it. When the music stops and everyone goes home? When the day is gone and she doesn’t have anyone to entertain herself with? When she removes her makeup, taking off her brave face for the day, do the demons she keeps buried start playing with her when there’s no one else to play with?

I guess not. Narcissists don’t have insecurities, right?

Must be nice.

Toodles!
~A♥~

Uncategorized

Stark White Scars and Her

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A mystery, a stigma.

Dancing on the tabletop when drunk on her company, but refusing to move a leg, claiming she didn’t know how to dance when her friends invited her to — that’s the kind of girl she was. She had always been a mystery to everybody who ever had a chance to hold a two-minute conversation with her. And, that was the reason why everyone around her was so fascinated with her. She never gave much away. She held everything close. Too close.
She was friendly with a lot of people. But, if you ever really looked close, she barely had any friends. She didn’t let people in. And, that led them to speculate about her past. She knew they wondered what had happened in her past to make her so “closed off”. She knew they created weird theories and reached even weirder conclusions. But she just didn’t really care. It didn’t matter to her, any of it. It was as if she was missing a very important part in her system; the part responsible for everything emotion. It was as if she didn’t feel.
Then, she got taken by the police. Police had knocked on her dorm room door at the ungodly hour of 7 in the morning. She had opened the door, muffled and disheveled. They had talked to her intensely for a minute. She had nodded and went inside. A moment later, huddled in a huge fur coat, she had reappeared, and had went with them quietly, without any protest. “What the hell is happening? Where are you going? It’s freezing out.” Her roommate had shouted from inside.
Everybody wanted to know. Nobody heard anything. For days. There was no sign of her returning. One morning, her roommate had taken the whole dorm by a storm, shouting about no sense of privacy in the “perverted” place. Apparently, HER stuff had disappeared in the black of the night, as if she never lived here. As if she hadn’t existed. Her roommate had been crazy angry for the next few days because somebody hadn’t bothered to wake her up when the stuff was taken, and she was worried about having flashed the “intruder” in her sleep.
Days turned to weeks. No clue. No word. Everybody started to forget her. Nobody speculated anymore.
Then, on the cold, freezing morning of January 11, a part of her she had held close for so long came into light. It was the puzzle piece that had been missing all along. And it was a revelation that had the power to destroy everything.
A news headline shook the walls of the dorm. “The serial killer, a mutliple personality disorder case?” Her picture just below it. It was unbelievable. It was crazy. It was the truth.
Everything unraveled bit by bit. Reason for her weird, crazy behavior was revealed. Her “friends” claimed to have doubted it forever. Everybody was banking in for their 15 minutes of fame, the case becoming national level in 2 days straight. The whole nation was curious. They hadn’t met anybody like her. It wasn’t a 2, or even 3 split personality case. The doctors hadn’t been able to determine just how many personalities she had. She had been sent to an asylum. A caged, isolated room, too. They had pronounced her “mentally unfit to live amongst normal people”. She was a phariah. She was a stigma.

In a windowless room: Finally, I am here. He’s dying the ugliest, most painful death of them all. He won’t be able to touch another 5 year old ever again. I will kill him. He’s declared me sick. He’s the sickest of them all. A doctor, they say. A renowned one. He’s the last. He’s my salvation. My oath will be complete now. He doesn’t know me. But I know him very well. Too well.
The scars of the past haven’t faded one bit. They are even more pronounced now. Stark white, all over my soul. Nothing will soothe them other than his blood. All over me. All around me. In me. I will make every second count. I will make every second as painful as an eternity. So much so that he will beg me to kill him. I won’t. I will let every cell in his body experience the pain he put me through. Over and over again. And, when my ears will be ringing with the melody of his painful shrieks; when my own shrieks from the past will not be as loud; when my sleepless nightmares will not haunt me; when all my wounds will be soothed, maybe, just maybe, I will let him die.

Toodles!
~A♥~

P.S. Find me at:
Twitter @ilovetoread003
Facebook The unapologetic pen

Poetry

Oceanic Contradictions

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Vastness.

The moonlight dancing on the waves so black,
The bottomless ocean calling forth,
The passionate bouts of the watery being
Creating the fierce, white foam.
I stand on the edge with my feet naked,
The sparkling sand kissing them tenderly.
The mysterious power of the sea revealed
Strip by strip, a sight heavenly.
The silvery net on the fiery surface;
Filigree, like a slight smile playing on the lips
Of the being so powerful and hard to fathom,
Like a painting of the rare beauty, getting instant hits.
I stand at the edge and look at the sprawling reality,
A beautiful palace of royale chiselled,
And think back to all the times I stopped myself
From diving into the vast abyssal.
The realization of today hits me hard as I gaze out to the ocean.
The reality is passionate, and sprawling wide;
The possibilities numerous,
And no places to hide.
I sigh as I turn to go back,
Giving the oceanic contradiction a last glance
I can’t help but wonder
If my time has ended, or it’s my last chance.

Toodles!
~A♥~

P.S. Find me at:
Twitter @ilovetoread003
Facebook The unapologetic pen

Poetry

You’ll be good to go.

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Good to go, good to go, good to go.

Walking down the winding path;
The path made of everything new,
Silent days and screaming nights,
Happy fights and painful comfort,
I stop and think.

I think of all those hopeless days.
I think of all those shouting matches.
I think of all those broken promises.
I think of all those lost smiles.
I think of how everything has changed,
With the days gone by,
And passage of time, altering my reality.

I no longer crave the comfort of company.
I used to write as if I wouldn’t survive;
Survive without the support of my words.
But, now I write of the broken promises and the lost smiles.
Now? I write of the sad reality.
Now, I write of reality.

I look up from my spot,
perched on the roadside bench,
And see the strain in the laughter,
And hear the tears about to fall.

I think back to the past, and then, I smile.
I smile because I am letting go.
I smile because I am ready to glow.
I smile because the breaths are numbered,
And I don’t want to waste another,
Thinking of the regrets plaguing the time gone by.
I smile because I am ready.

I stand up from my seat at that roadside bench,
And I feel lighter.
Lighter, because I am leaving it all behind,
Right there on that iron bench
With the peeling paint and a crooked leg.
Lighter, because…just, because.
I start walking again with a slight smile playing on my lips,
And this time, I don’t look back.

Toodles!
~A♥~

P.S. Find me at:
Twitter @ilovetoread003
Facebook The unapologetic pen

Poetry

More.

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More. So much more.

Lying under the blanket of stars,
I see so much more.
I see myself riding the horse past the full moon
On a clear starlit night.
I see the possibilities of tomorrow,
Shining bright.
I see myself running alive amongst those yellow daffodils,
With the joy bursting forth.

Listening to the waterfall,
Gushing right outside my window
I hear so much more.
I hear the sounds of happiness,
A melody that’s rare.
I hear the song of the wind,
Distinctive in my ears.
I hear tomorrow calling for me to
Take a step.
One step.

Feeling the sense of completeness overtake me,
I feel so much more.
I feel the need to smile without a reason.
I feel the need to let go of all the digressions.
I feel the need write.
I feel the need to write,
with the essence of my soul as the ink,
And my life as the paper.
I feel the need to bleed with my words
All over the blank canvas of time.

Toodles!
~A♥~

P.S. Find me at:
Twitter @ilovetoread003
Facebook The unapologetic pen

Uncategorized

Family pieces.

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Pieces, pieces, get all the pieces...

Memories of you are too many pieces of too many different puzzles. It’s overwhelming. It’s too much. I can’t handle it. All those years we spent together, living in the same house, come to haunt me everytime I see your face on the TV screen. I wish I had done something; said something. Maybe, then I would have been able to stop you from going on this path. Maybe, then I would be able to live with myself; with what I did; with what I let happen even though I knew it would destroy us all. But, I didn’t. Why didn’t I? Maybe I was afraid. I was afraid of what would happen to you. I was afraid of what would happen to us. We only had each other. You and I. I couldn’t have destroyed us. I should have. That selfish decision I took back then is going to be the death of everybody I have always cared about. Including you. Everybody’s gonna die and I am the one to blame. I should have stopped you. I should have done a lot of things I didn’t do. Your symptoms that I missed, all your mistakes that I covered for, all the benefits of doubt I gave you, all the times I was unknowingly a part of your extremist plans…I will have to pay for it. I will have to let you go. I will have to deal with this shit so nobody else dies cuz of my selfishness. I will make sure nobody does. We lived in the same house for years. We lived across the hall, for God’s sake. And I still missed the signs. You did a lot of things that you won’t be able to pay for in a number of lifetimes. But you weren’t alone. You aren’t alone. I was in the background, covering for you. I was unknowingly an extremist, too. I was letting it happen. I am the worst sister ever. Forgive me. I should have reported you. But it’s too late now. I didn’t wanna be alone. I knew if you were gone, I would be left all alone. Not now. I don’t need you anymore. I got a new sister. I will keep her on a tight leash. I won’t let her wander down the wrong path. You can go now. You gotta pay for all the sins you have committed. I am gonna be real easy on you. Don’t worry. It won’t hurt. I will put a bullet right between your eyebrows, and it will be over. Shh calm down. I can’t let this go on. You have to go. You gotta die. And I am going to pull the last trigger. I am going to end it all. I am going to be the end.

Toodles!
~A♥~

P.S. Find me at:
Twitter @ilovetoread003
Facebook The unapologetic pen