stella--me

It is always the same, I’m drained at the end of the day. I am angry,beaten, and worse alone. Everyone who see’s me is just laughing at me. I tried to change, but am still nothing more than a laughing stalk. All my changes have done is lock me alone even more.Chains around my wrists, bars all around me. The more I try to change my situation in this cell the blacker it gets, but the real sad thing is I can change it. As I look thru the bars I see my chance to escape, the place I should be running too opening itself to me. Why am I staying, Easy answer really, fear… I know what I will get here… the outside word… I

I am not alone by choice, nor do I enjoy being alone. I am not hanging out with these people by choice, nor do I enjoy their company. I do not enjoy my habits, nor did I chose them. I do not enjoy my failures, nor did I choose them. I am not alone at all, but the room is cold. The room is full, yet I am invisible to everyone. Blood is red, and the color flooding threw my skin. I succeed, when it comes to not being cared about. Confused... so am I, then I look in the mirror and know they are right.

You know when you wake up in the middle of the night and you see a Silhouette of a person but they go away after you sit up. That was what I thought I was seeing until I closed my eyes, something that felt like a hand touched my waist. I yelled as the silhouette bent down and touched my face. My parents rushed in but the thing was gone by time they turned on the light. It didn’t just walk out, just completely disappear out of sight. My parents did the normal thing and told me it was just a bad dream, or something that had to do with exhaustion. I wanted to believe them, but couldn’t force myself to believe them. Maybe it was the f

 I need you to trust me now, as I stab you in the back. Mouth of lies will not bow, And will thrill to attack. Like the Raven to the old man sitting in his grief, inflame His loss. I will cause you pain. It’s only karma. I claim I will be content only after one of us loose our temper. Dysphoria is a snap, to cause you to feel something. Please hold back your coy clap. Am I like a bee sting? Irritating and tender, Or  like the black widow’s bite, All Vim-onus, cruel, and dyer? What will you do? Maybe Fight Back and stop crying like a child? Don’t disappoint and With hold. End this contentment for show. Strike me and call m