Magazines and T.V. screens
show these girls all day
Pretty little creatures,
who show what we should say.
Who smile in front of the camera
but cry behind closed doors,
forcing themselves into delusion,
Until they can't find "them" anymore...
We raise them to believe only beauty
will determine their worth.
And to try and maintain a facisimile of perfection
Because the world will only see the very worst.
We make them parade around
pretending to be little airheads
"What's in your head doesn't matter,"
we teach our girls to be brain dead
We teach them they need to be thinner
to throw up who they want to be,
No personality is what matters,
Bimbos are what we think are "pretty."
We tell them they have to fix themselves
but you can't fix what is with in.
You must keep down the sadness you feel,
to show an opinion is basically a sin.
You could enter a paegant,
and come on top the winner,
and they'll still find something to pick up
"You could always be thinner."
We cause these girls to lose themselves,
telling them they cant be happy.
We tell them they need to add more makeup
thats the only way to be pretty.
Press on nails, and fake eyelashes,
erasing who they were with determination.
Telling girls they'll soon be perfect, but...
"Perfection is the disease of a nation
I light a fire just to watch it burn
Sit across the street with empty hands
Behind a tree unnoticed, so it's not my turn
I have infinite thoughts, but empty plans
Ending up only to be pretty hollow
Ideas only stay for portion of a second
Echoing through the empty walls. and then comes nothing
Diffusing into the air, to become a forgotten particle
and nothing comes to follow
To set the ominous breeze,
Over the most vibrant sea, that suddenly lost color
and the skies are now gone and dull
They paint the picture to not excite, but simply appease
To be trapped inside this now and empty void
With nothing but everything destroyed
To say that we are fine, and simply avoid
Now we sail, swift onto the large sea of contradictions
Too lost within, that we forget our own convictions
Letting loose the anchor of anxiety, and thus become the restrictions
But this is not the end,
A man aboard throws over his only friend
And a storm rolls in, and then our destination is not known
As realization becomes the new sun, and hearts are turned to stone
A daughter now deserted by her parents is overwhelmed in strife
She whimpers, but can not help wonder what makes up this sickly life
A world where people phase in, and phase out
and thoughts become ideas, and ideas become a shout
and how long does a day go on to stay out and last,
Before awesome expectations become invisible, straight into the past?
Will the ship find it's way to land, or sink in despair?
Great ideas no match for the roaring waves of Negativity and ignorance?
Those striving so long for a real sun, to only be in vain, deprived?
And those hopelessly waiting for relief, to be cruelly concealed, unaware?
The masterpiece of a book now weathered to nothing but scribbles
A great idea now hidden and destroyed by life's cruel riddles
Will the hands be strong at ease to create another inspiration?
Or will it fail to swim over the simplest waves and forget it's own foundation?
I'm stuck inside myself.
Attacked by all my feelings,
attacked by all my pain.
I'm stuck inside my head,
and I'm dead to the world.
Everyone around me is living,
they seem truly happy,
they go out and do things.
And then there's me...
I'm the girl who throws
out small smiles,
ones that aren't like my real ones,
and yet people still fall for them.
I smile and act like everything
is a-okay when I'm around others,
But once I'm alone-
the smile drops away,
the laughter dies.
The tears come,
the pain hits,
and I slowly sink
down onto the floor.
I'm dead to the world.
I'm not living anymore.
Dead to the World
I was a happy little girl.
I wore poofy dresses,
and spun in them happily.
I ran around and played
with both boys and girls.
I was a bit of a tomboy,
didn't mind getting dirty.
I ate apples instead of candy.
I climbed on anything
that I possibly could!
Alone with somethings that
no one though that I could!
I was such a happy little girl!
I smiled all the time,
I laughed at so many things,
I did just about anything!
I talked to strangers,
made friends in the blink of an eye!
I know what I'm doing
is seen as very wrong,
but there's something
about it that draws me in....
The feeling of pain
when i touch the blade
against my skin,
the sight of the blood
popping up to the surface
as i drag the blade,
the sensation of both
panic and calm,
mixing together
in my mind.
I know I shouldn't
do this,
but I actually like it
The way my skin heals
and then leaves a scar behind,
to remind me:
I'm still here,
I'm still alive,
I still bleed,
I still heal.
I'm not gone,
I'm not dead,
I'm not bloodless,
I'm not unfixable....
This cutting
makes me feel again...
I am bound again, just as they said I was
It's clear and beautiful blue hue becomes forever cloudy
A bird's chirps become distorted by the rain and thunder's cries
I walk alone the path of the river
Alone accompanied by my footprints only
Till the crow comes to bring yet another question
This I can't ignore, for the world will shiver
And the steam shall arise from my next decision
and the never's and forever's again will pour the air
I hope to hold on to whatever is left
The sun can tell another day, to become my true vision
It happens when
you're all alone....
No one answering your calls
No one answering your texts
No one there for you...
That's when you look over,
and you see your blade.
That faithful friend...
That friend who's always there
when no one else is around.
That friend that
can bring you comfort,
bring you freedom,
make you....
alive.
You don't dare
tell others that
this is how you feel...
That, even though it's wrong,
you actually....
enjoy the blade.
You keep that inside,
it's your little secret.
You slowly reach out,
knowing you shouldn't
but you're done resisting,
and ready for that comfort.
So that's when you
go ahead,
you hold it in your hand,
feeling the familiarity of it.
You place it to your skin,
you press it down,
you pull on it,
you drag it across your skin.
You give in and let it win.
You cut.....
You give in.
I'm crying,
crying out for help
but no one seems
to hear.
I'm dying,
dying deep inside
but no one seems
to see.
I'm begging,
begging to be heard
but no one seems
to care.
I'm withdrawing,
withdrawing from the world
but no one seems
to notice.
I'm breaking,
breaking down slowly,
but no one seems
to know.
Summer! Oh! please come quick
Quick as a fox to snatch and shit.
That shit it gave will make us gay
And i don't mean that sensitive way.
The violet hill is anti-war.
Songs about peace to everyone.
Songs that makes us all believe
That things will better; so don't quit.
Though spring means life, winter then death.
But Summer is what my heart longeth.
Then fall is my emotionless state
I do care less than an apple cheese cake.
So I'm just a tree on a crazy hill.
Waiting for the sun and the frizzling rain.
I wait for the winter wounds to heal.
I wait for the changes of the seasons' air.
So I'm just a tree on a crazy hill.
Well I'm just a tree and I can't feel.
No I can't dream and I can't sing.
I'm just a troubled tree, a troubled king.