No Description yet.
Here i am, again, and im writeing about my pain, again, i've wrote that so much it's not funny, go away days, that are sunny,
i don't want to see you, pack up your bags supporters, and friends, and those who have all the answers,
i know i said i feel like im ignored, but i know that im just a big bore, like "god when is she gonna shut up"
How many times, do you, and you, have to listen to me ball and cry, throw a fit, and die, just alittle bit,
it's getting harder, to hold this rock, i've burred in my gut, maybe i could pack up and leave, i bet you'd all be better if that door shut,
maybe thats what you all want, maybe thats what i need, what can you read, and what can you heed, of my words im trying to blead,
ashamed, embarressed, lonely, and you paused in your speech for five stupid minuets, and that was it, now i think your ignoreing it,
if it's that easy, how come i can't do it, feeling all sleasy, feeling all crazy, i see my world through windows that are all rained on,
burired deep behind my eyelids, what if i told you i still have that fear i can't have kids, what if i told you i have a list of fears,
that lists them one by one, as many as my fingers, and i keep adding to them, and they won't go away they just continue to linger,
i'm a victim of my own mind's murder games, attacking my heart, with it's confussed intelect, because i've lost all my self respect,
i want you to open that draw with all those knives, maybe if i was like a cat, having nine lives, i could let this one go,
but how many times did i do that before, is this my last chance, oh but i keep keeping those thoughts, like it's a romance,
close my eyes, it's not you i see, but everything, i think i could be, oh how selfish of me, maybe i could be those things,
and roleplay, just do it 24/7, again and again all day, if i told you i hated myself, would i be a racist, if i told you, could you face this?
if i can roleplay my self this way, can i turn back the hands of time, and wipe away that gritty filthy bloody grime?
make it dissapear, no more cyrophobia, agorphobia, and paranoia, would that erase my fears?
how many more holidays, am i going to miss, cause im little miss depressed, maybe im not strong, maybe your wrong,
maybe i didn't survive, i was just spared, maybe that means i should care, but it's not helping me, stop from tearing my hair,
out by the roots, lock me away, call those men in those white suits, i promise to not fight and turn them red,
just make sure i get some kind of good bed, and if that means a coffin, then how come no one else told me i was dead,
here i was fighting and fighting, for feelings long since passed, thinking all this time i could have lived, but now it's only repressed,
will tomorrow be the day i get up, and move on, how much more do i have to wait, i have so much on my plate,
im not hungry anymore, i don't want to eat anymore, can't we wipe it off, and start a new slate?
they all come and go, and i just want to open my mouth, and vomit them away, my guts are twisted anyway,
back off of me, don't touch me, don't say, it's ok sweetie, im not feeling very sweet, im not gonna sit here, and just tweet,
im not tweety bird, did you hear me? i don't think you ever heard, most of these feelings, stare through my eyes, never to come out,
if i could scream as loud as i want, how many decibles would i break, how many window panes, will shake and break?
i feel discriminated, and separated, i feel tainted, and im about to be fainting, don't tell me how i should be,
don't tell me how i should feel, what i should do, what i should and shouldn't keep inside of me.
my feelings, and problems, aren't from one simple event, and they may have built up and bent, but i don't do this thing very well
the thing they call "vent"
Poetry by Gothic geisha
Read 1120 times
Written on 2007-09-18 at 22:45
Tags Vent Hurt Thing
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Thing they call vent
"thing they call vent"Here i am, again, and im writeing about my pain, again, i've wrote that so much it's not funny, go away days, that are sunny,
i don't want to see you, pack up your bags supporters, and friends, and those who have all the answers,
i know i said i feel like im ignored, but i know that im just a big bore, like "god when is she gonna shut up"
How many times, do you, and you, have to listen to me ball and cry, throw a fit, and die, just alittle bit,
it's getting harder, to hold this rock, i've burred in my gut, maybe i could pack up and leave, i bet you'd all be better if that door shut,
maybe thats what you all want, maybe thats what i need, what can you read, and what can you heed, of my words im trying to blead,
ashamed, embarressed, lonely, and you paused in your speech for five stupid minuets, and that was it, now i think your ignoreing it,
if it's that easy, how come i can't do it, feeling all sleasy, feeling all crazy, i see my world through windows that are all rained on,
burired deep behind my eyelids, what if i told you i still have that fear i can't have kids, what if i told you i have a list of fears,
that lists them one by one, as many as my fingers, and i keep adding to them, and they won't go away they just continue to linger,
i'm a victim of my own mind's murder games, attacking my heart, with it's confussed intelect, because i've lost all my self respect,
i want you to open that draw with all those knives, maybe if i was like a cat, having nine lives, i could let this one go,
but how many times did i do that before, is this my last chance, oh but i keep keeping those thoughts, like it's a romance,
close my eyes, it's not you i see, but everything, i think i could be, oh how selfish of me, maybe i could be those things,
and roleplay, just do it 24/7, again and again all day, if i told you i hated myself, would i be a racist, if i told you, could you face this?
if i can roleplay my self this way, can i turn back the hands of time, and wipe away that gritty filthy bloody grime?
make it dissapear, no more cyrophobia, agorphobia, and paranoia, would that erase my fears?
how many more holidays, am i going to miss, cause im little miss depressed, maybe im not strong, maybe your wrong,
maybe i didn't survive, i was just spared, maybe that means i should care, but it's not helping me, stop from tearing my hair,
out by the roots, lock me away, call those men in those white suits, i promise to not fight and turn them red,
just make sure i get some kind of good bed, and if that means a coffin, then how come no one else told me i was dead,
here i was fighting and fighting, for feelings long since passed, thinking all this time i could have lived, but now it's only repressed,
will tomorrow be the day i get up, and move on, how much more do i have to wait, i have so much on my plate,
im not hungry anymore, i don't want to eat anymore, can't we wipe it off, and start a new slate?
they all come and go, and i just want to open my mouth, and vomit them away, my guts are twisted anyway,
back off of me, don't touch me, don't say, it's ok sweetie, im not feeling very sweet, im not gonna sit here, and just tweet,
im not tweety bird, did you hear me? i don't think you ever heard, most of these feelings, stare through my eyes, never to come out,
if i could scream as loud as i want, how many decibles would i break, how many window panes, will shake and break?
i feel discriminated, and separated, i feel tainted, and im about to be fainting, don't tell me how i should be,
don't tell me how i should feel, what i should do, what i should and shouldn't keep inside of me.
my feelings, and problems, aren't from one simple event, and they may have built up and bent, but i don't do this thing very well
the thing they call "vent"
Poetry by Gothic geisha
Read 1120 times
Written on 2007-09-18 at 22:45
Tags Vent Hurt Thing
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
