ice-crystal-serpent

no.one.hits.as.hard.as.words.

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Not meant for me by ice-crystal-serpent, literature

Literature

Not meant for me

Maybe I wasn't meant to be loved I was meant to write it in poems and dream it in dreams But never to feel it given back to me. Not everyone can be the main character. Someone has to write the tale The only way for someone to succeed Someone else has to fail And those who feel it are too busy living it They don't have time to reflect or dream Cursed to forever be the one seeing But I'm never seen. ~©️CNET

Sick of the same old pain by ice-crystal-serpent, literature

Old habits die hard by ice-crystal-serpent, literature

Unbroken by ice-crystal-serpent, literature

Literature

Unbroken

Unbroken The wounds are no longer fresh But the pain is just as strong I’m still drowning where they’ve left me Still singing the same pathetic song I’m Alive But I should have died I’m in purgatory I know I’m not well I never could escape it This eternal tormenting hell The years continue And too slowly I break Nothing changes But I’m never broken Will I always wake? What of the day? When will it end? I just keep breaking Because I always mend But that is the game Sick and twisted you see I’m never fully broken And they love breaking me ©~CNET

Thoughts on fathers day by ice-crystal-serpent, literature

It's more than that by ice-crystal-serpent, literature

Chemical dependence by ice-crystal-serpent, literature

thoughts in the dark by ice-crystal-serpent, literature

Literature

thoughts in the dark

There are too many ghosts that follow me Too many shadows that swallow me Keeping me coming back to the same place I've always been. There is too much pain to heal here Too much damage Too much fear... I don't think I can ever escape it now. It's too late for me. Why do the ghosts from my past cast shadows across me... What am I still doing here? It hurts. Sometimes too much... I don't know how much longer I can go on here. Shall we guess? Lets make it a game Like Russian roulette, The devil always wins. But still we will play He will take a soul but will it be mine today?

Is it a lack of faith? by ice-crystal-serpent, literature

Literature

Is it a lack of faith?

Is it a lack of faith? What do you do when there's no one to turn to? Where do you go when you've fallen into a pit? When you can not scale the walls that surround you, How is it still possible to know, this can't be it? When the only one you can talk to doesn't answer, You wonder if they exist... Is all the proof in the end result? Or is there something that I've missed? I often wonder if I'm over thinking, Am I just shooting myself in the foot? Am I just underestimating others? Or are my fears aptly put? Have I held him back from a chapter? Was I supposed to wait? Have a rushed him into this endeavour, And thus screwed u

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Not meant for me by ice-crystal-serpent, literature

Literature

Not meant for me

Sick of the same old pain by ice-crystal-serpent, literature

Old habits die hard by ice-crystal-serpent, literature

Unbroken by ice-crystal-serpent, literature

Literature

Unbroken

Thoughts on fathers day by ice-crystal-serpent, literature

It's more than that by ice-crystal-serpent, literature

Chemical dependence by ice-crystal-serpent, literature

thoughts in the dark by ice-crystal-serpent, literature

Literature

thoughts in the dark

Is it a lack of faith? by ice-crystal-serpent, literature

Literature

Is it a lack of faith?

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supernova insomniac by and-speak, literature

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supernova insomniac

and it’s not about counting nightmares anymore, it’s conquering the notion of not sleeping altogether (so the dreams will never come) and instead become the corpse become the flesh of stars, the bones of moons, the blood of the neptune sky dozing eyes can’t see the dying black holes that they’ve become and remove the insides, fill the canonic jars with the stardust imagery behind the sleepless mind (scintillating with the tremors of a broken orbit) and they will await the day when the forever rest opens the lungs and fills them with dead suns— solemnly stitching them shut with conste

Moth To The Flame by Wayward-Lines, literature

Summer by autogestion, literature

Dead Fingers by Shinoochu, literature

Presence by Elendurwen, literature

Literature

Presence

There's a presence in my head There's a shard Violent and very much alive The pressure of its touches burns It loops around Secret corners of my brain There's obsession in my mind There is pleasure Seemingly obscene There's perfection in my hurt There is joy In a pain so crystal clear With nails rusted and so sharp It seeks the flesh And blood under my skin Its noize shields from all around It overrides Stench of the world dying

Star-Crossed by Wayward-Lines, literature

Chaplin Girl by Wayward-Lines, literature

Literature

Chaplin Girl

In that flowering bloom of her lips where love sonnets are born lived the healing kiss to cure that heart lovelorn Her fingers plagiarized the story written darkly in her eyes a novel full of paradox that caught you by surprise That sweet Chaplin girl riding on the train her destination left unknown and they never ask her name She never felt alone solitude was her kindred spirit down lonely tracks a whistle blows and none will ever hear it