i am tired of being human. and angry at feeling so much love. some days i am angry just to be alive.

Do you even know what they did to people like me, who went against them? Rabbits. They called us rabbits. And when we got in trouble, or when we fought against them, they had ways to make us stop scratching each other.

always bit my tongue about my childhood. growing up in a house where your whole life was planned out for you from the day you were born and if you stepped out of line you were punished for it didn't sound like a nice conversation to have over dinner.

One life, two lives
It was enough for me
Three lives, four lives
What is the end for me?
Five lives, scream out
Into the void of space...

we were playing in the sand,
and i extended you a hand
you said that you'd rather die than be seen with me as your man. . .

i was born with my mother’s eyes. i loved those eyes until i remembered the anger in them. i wonder, will i grow up to be angry too?

for now i put down my weapons; i wanna be a person.

the next time you hit me, i hit back. do you hear me, motherfucker?

mom, please. . .

don't be so nice to me, you'll make me wish i wanted help.

taking a closer look, it looks to be a similar design of you, but much, much smaller. the skin is rotting as maggots squeeze inside any gaping wound.

i could care less what you do though. i'm just here for the aesthetics.
(not to be unorthodox, Father, but the uniforms you put your men in make me crazy.)

so, call me what you like!
i’ll ride this tide
i prayed for glory, i made a story
The Gods above, i’m sure, abhor me
though Poseidon’s seldom kind, i’ll be alright. . .
“i want a vision of what i’m to be”
THE MONKEY'S PAW GRIPS MY NECK TIGHTLY.

am i not good? have i not been good enough? is it too late to try again? can i not be better? i want to be good for you. please. i'll be good.

I WANTED TO BE LOVED SO DESPERATELY THAT MY FINGERS SHOOK WITH IT. I AM NOT BEAUTIFUL BUT I COULD BE.

"□□□, □□□, and □□□ are all gone. i am alone. i'm all that's left.
i can hear someone calling my name outside of the house. but i'm entirely alone. i should be alone. but someone's outside, calling my name in the fog."

you're letting someone else's death haunt you, and killing yourself as an individual.

you're letting someone else's death haunt you, and killing yourself as an individual.

am i not good? have i not been good enough? is it too late to try again? can i not be better? i want to be good for you. please. i'll be good.

truthfully, because of my bad memory, it feels like i'm dead sometimes. or back from the dead. like a ghost or □□□. it just feels like i won't ever get to know who i truly was before. it's like... trying to be yourself is hard when you don't even know that person fully.

it's funny though. . . he's the one who made me go to nursing school. . .
that's how i knew where his femoral artery was.

for now i put down my weapons; i wanna be a person.

i forget i'm an adult all of the time,
'cause my body gave up when i was so young.
and now i go throughout life puppet-ing my own corpse,
my own memory, a less alive kind of me.

my father wants to take me outside and beat me for my smartass mouth. he says: you're just like my father. i say: i'd kill myself to get away from you, too.

i was so desperate to be understood that i would grab people and shove them inside my heart where they stuck out like splinters, and it would hurt every time i felt anything.

Ripped  apart
Broken heart
But broken  hearts can't be mended
Once they are torn

you may not be the only killer here, but only one of us is innocent,
and it's not you.

THE GOD OF NIGHT WILL MAKE WAY FOR DAY.

I ONCE SAW THE FACE OF GOD, A VAST AND SUDDEN SILENCE AMONG THE NOISY HEAVENS. THAT EVENING I DREAMT I LISTENED TO ONE SIDE OF A CONVERSATION I SHOULD NOT HAVE OVERHEARD. I DO NOT WATCH THE SKIES ANY MORE. I DO NOT LOOK UP.

i'm going to make the future worse on purpose .