Skattered Papers

Distance changes people but somethings
are always steady
never swaying
strong and constant
like what we have
steady as my heart and strong as our bond.
Distance has no power, no contol
only we hold our fate
our future is in these gentle hands.



I am scared of this feeling, a foreigner to my mind
A stranger to my emotions
I do not want this, is it pity? Fear? Love?
What is this?
Shall I carry on with this, this path which I’m laying in front of me?
I feel insecure, that all of this is genuine not all of this, only me.
I do not wish to be anymore.
I’m baffled by my mind, feel scared of my spirit
Exposed by all disease and plagues
With every word and sentence I feel knives slit open my veins, but it stays, not letting my blood seep through, not letting the thirst of this.




Can you??


Can you feel this?
Can you see this flesh drip from my bones?
The flames of grief have devoured my skin as if like a bush fire, slowly reaching higher and higher.
Eating my roots, my branches and creeping upon my leaves as if it wishes to ash my soul and to sprinkle my remains among the fires of hell
I am burning.
This feeling of slowly melting away, like a candle, slowly dying, intrigues me, it tempts me this feeling so simple can blank out these emotions which seem to fight a battle within the very chambers of my soul.
Do not save me.. Please.



You look at me and your gaze is strange, your presence unwanted, your breath redundant
Your words are foreign to I,
Your voice like a cacophony
Your scent like stale rat flesh
You are nothing.




Why is it the world can see something I can’t
When everyone else sees something beautiful, but I see something
I hate.
Why do people expect me to be something great when I just want to find out who I really am
Why can’t I be myself?
I’m scared of what I might see,
Scared of what’s underneath.
Why am I scared to love people?
Because they can see what’s there?
They always leave.
No one really cares what’s killing me inside. Do I?
Why is it sometimes I find myself staring into space and thinking “I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t have gotten this far”
Life doesn’t want me anymore, just how most people don’t.





Could you please stop being so blimin pessimistic and stop chasing people away with your negativity.
How can you expect someone to love you when all you can do is hate yourself every minute of the day?
Can’t you see that there might be something inside of you that is beautiful to the world?
Stop looking in the dark and walk in the light.
Where you can see truth and happiness
Even though there are still shadows following you everywhere, you can still turn your back against them.




Alone and learning to grow in a box with no windows or doors.
Alone in a mind that doesn’t understand me and never sees who I really am.
Frustrated for always being alone and never feeling love or happiness
Frustrated at myself for never allowing anyone to come near.
What’s the point, they’ll leave anyway.
They’ll notice what’s inside and realize there’s no place for someone as beautiful as you.
In my place of darkness and self pity, I’d make you fade away just so you can find your light again cause I’ll drain it all away.
I’m suffocating on my own breath my own source of life.
I’m sinking into a cloud where they’ll be no bright pearly gates with a massive lock keeping me out.




Safe for a while,
As I hide in
His arms of death.
Never to breath again or escape life one more time.
Death is a new adventure
where uncertainty demands all feeling.
Will you forget me,
When I fly away from this place of life?
Will you forget how I sat here,
Invisible to you?
Will you miss me,
The way I tried to be there for you?
Or remember the pain and misery that I managed to bring upon you?
Try, try to remember that I tired, I tried to change my spirit and soul to match yours but you were just so much better than I.
I could never touch your amazing soul.
But I tried,
Alone
In this over populated place I never ever fell, this was just how I was suppose to fade.
People will come and go, but I was never there in the first place.
I was always away somewhere
In my own personal cell.
Live your life to the fullest even though I have no right to make that demand.
But I will always be in the heavens/hell where ever He wants me.
Away in another place,
I’ll never see you again.
I’ll never feel the angels grace my face.
And when judgment day decides to arrive,
I’ll jump the queue
And save the time of confessing why I had to leave, but drift into the never ending pit.
I’ll save you all ever having to feel my presence near you and destroy every bit of happiness in you.
Sorry but I do this all for you.


There’s a needle puncturing my head. Letting its deadly filth spread over all that’s there to threaten it’s domination.
There’s a knife severing my skin, letting its blade part all this essence that makes me ‘me’


You never seem to be able to make sense of anything that I mumble. Did you maybe think that that mumble was a plea, a cry for help? Some people speak with hands, words but I was never there to place them. I spoke through silence, through itching tears and soft movements.


Stop with your bitchy looks.
Looks that mean nothing of something.
They help nothing. You help nothing.
You supposedly higher, more educated, a something, can’t you control yourself for us, for nothingness.
Stop it. We learn, that’s our job, that’s it. Why don’t you let it down and then help.
You, you, you, something, you.



Mirror me in you.

I lay invisible to the world, a hole within myself growing
And growing
Your acidic words widen that hole and
I feel your spit burning my life
You stand there
Content
Of your achievement, your saliva dripping
Over me, slowly,
Slithering strong flames which aim to attack my knowledge.
You feel familiar to my eyes,
My burning eyes
Your face looks lost and fragile even through your blood-shot windows.
Hold me back,
Bar me from your flesh.
My fingers want to rip your leather
And expose me underneath
I want to pluck your veins with sharpened knives
And change your organized organs that keep you taking life.
I need to smash this mirrored image
And take the glass shattered within my feet
And do what I please with us:
Fake your death in my eyes and feel your blood cleanse my thoughts
I want to watch you melt in front of me
And smell your exposed dripping heart pump its
Last
Breath
You are dead.
I killed you.
I killed myself.


I am nothing I am vanished from every soul
I am forgotten my presence unthought-of.
I am an image that no one wishes to see.
I am matter which must be burnt and a soul which should drift into the earth, away.
I am forgotten.
A faded face.
I am a stupid dumbass that no one wants to know
I am chained by your fake love, tempted to believe that it might be something after all.
I feel confused by my own confusion.
I feel lost within the very chambers of my soul. I feel used by your own greed and need to feel. I feel unprotected by this knife that sits there so close and dear.
I am scared that I am losing myself, frightened by the thought that maybe this was all nothing to you at all. I’m scared that if this is all true then I won’t allow myself to feel again. I’ve done it before and I know it’ll happen again. Maybe she’s right maybe I am too young for this anymore or maybe my mind just can’t cope anymore.
I’ve tried hard to stop time and time over again. Yet still it persists to set itself up for hurt again.



I am upset, I don’t know why, I cannot figure it out.
I need to do something.
My inside self doesn’t want to lose you, can’t loose you but another part just wants things to become how they were before. But I know that that would crush me, would sent me down a hole.
Am I being selfish, wanting things from you and then throwing it back in your face again?
O, wait that’s being a spoiled little brat, that’s being who I always was.
This essence possessing a frail body that sees or feels everything surrounding, this is not who I want to be, who I want to represent, only a part of a me which escaped that box. That broke free from chains and wrapped them around my throat. Do you really adore me or do you simply pity me?
Was I merely a last resort after her and her rejection?
Sometimes I think you wish that she was yours or that I was her because then you would want to stop trying to transform me into something I know I can’t be, someone who only, at the darkest hours, manages to become free. I should not and cannot breath anymore. My inhales are reluctant and my exhales are long and wasteful. I am so sorry for having brought this.