Do not love me anymore. I am tainted, gone; I am poison in your veins.
Do not love me anymore. I am sweet as milk and honey, flowing swiftly into another; only bitter to your taste.
Do not love me anymore. I bid thee take thy leave , don't stay. I am your monster and your dark. I am your fleeing nightingale. The missing of your flock.
Do not love me anymore. I am not yours. Your chains that hold are merely ghosts of chains that used to be.
Do not love me anymore. I'll be your wicked death. becoming someone Else's life... Oh, but if you loved me ever.
A hand wrought to soothe. A voice designed; created to manipulate. A breath to lull her to be still. A bite to hold her there; a bite to murder will.
She breaths not! Holding breath to keep the weep a secret; a hidden dream forsaken with every silent tear of bitter sacrifice.
Hate will hold her hand to keep the fever hounds at bay. Fear will drive her heart to cease to race.
And she falls; A strained fight. She disappears. Reality becomes nightmare as she forces herself awake into sky's lucid dream.
A promise ghost; the senses numb her and she is zone.
The walls and ceilings turn to nothing. Outer space; a beautiful cosmos. She hangs there in the middle, somewhere between eternity and cold. She suspends herself curled into her ball, enfolding silence around her; a sweet cocoon.
Tears flow fast and hard; her guardians float around her like the weeping angels of genocide. She curls to the fold; to see a face, to feel a different hand; a different breath.
A hand wrought to soothe
A voice designed;
created to protect
a breath to lull to satisfy.
She breaths not
Holding breath to keep
the weep a secret
a hidden dream come to fruition
with every silent tear
of sweeter sacrifice; the nightmare bids her back.
And..
Fear will hold her hand
to keep the fever hounds at bay.
Hate will drive her
heart to cease to race.
And she falls... Reality becomes her as she rolls to hide; to close the doors. Sleep will welcome her.
Pretend, will be her guardian. To hold her. To save her. To take her away.
Until the clock chimes her of her time and she will flee.
When you tell me that i matter, I know that I'm important
When you tell me "I Believe," I know I can.
When you held up the Apple a single bite was all it took to form a specific inspiration to just believe in something.
When you told us we would travel, I knew I could go far; these specific inspirations that lead a heart to Good.
It never has to be much-- just a little bit will do; sometimes even the simplest words will set the course to pull us through.
And sometimes going far doesn't mean a big house, and a nice car.
Sometimes going far means setting your course to change the lives of others, to keep them from going ajar
They are specific inspirations that make us who we are.
Through life these specific inspirations that we remember in a blip will open certain doors not everything is roses not everything thorns, but each door that is opened, each keyhole to unlock, leads us to specific options
The options to remember those specific inspirations, to use them and define them for ourselves to do the things of good or do the things of bad.
So far this path that I have set upon is neither specific nor straight but one thing is specifically certain:
I remember "specific" and I have chosen; I don't have that big house and i don't have that nice car
but,
I have talked cats off of walls and I've built flaming pyres in the darkness of others; And i have found that something to believe in because of these specific inspirations--
I think it's sad when I walk down the street and
people seem so repelled by me because i am Goth. It's like
they are afraid of us.
I used to go to church a long time
ago; I showed up to church in my regular style of clothing--Goth--and
there was some kind of show they were doing. One of the people
that was in the show came up to me after church and automatically
started telling me how Satanism is bad and how i need Jesus.
I just looked at him and laughed.
I still remember my exact words as
follows: "Do you even know who I am? What? Just because i am
Goth you think I am a satanist? Are you kidding me? I know more about
the Bible than you' ll ever know your entire life. I'm Goth but
that doesn't mean I'm a fucking satanist."
I used to surf the Yahoo chats a
lot. I found that the most fun people to chat with were Goths.
Everyone has this preconceived notion that because of the way we
dress and how society looks at us, we must all be Satanist, and we
are all mean and unfriendly anti-social and hate the world.
I kind of hate humanity in a sense
simply because humanity seems to have lost its will to survive
as a whole.
Humanity seems to have forgotten to
embrace all that surrounds us like nature and the air we breath;
humanity takes for granted that there is more to life than the TV
that i am listening to, or the pc i am typing on as we speak.
There is the moon in the night sky with
which I celebrate and pull my energy from; there are the trees for
instance, and as beautiful as they may be, the energy they posses is
far greater. They produce the air we breath that gives us life. I
like the sun for sure, but I feel most alive at night even though the
people I see day to day seem to think its just all part of the act I
put on. But it's not. I have been this way my whole life. It seems to
be those of us that hang on the outer fringes of society have not
forgotten to breath and celebrate nature and the energy it
possesses; it is those of us on the outer fringes of society
that have not forgotten the fact that there is beauty in everything
even...the bad or the dark. Because we are human, it is in our
nature to forsake that which we take for granted; but it seems that
those of us on the outer fringe that strive to remember and never
forget...do not forget.
No matter how hard i try to explain
this to people that are not like us, they never get it. I get
asked stupid questions like: “Are your drinking tomato juice
because it looks like blood?” Well no. It's because I like
tomato juice. I'm just as normal as you. I'm just a little tweaked.
The normal people that are curious
about Goths just seem to think that every single thing I do has some
sort of Gothic reasoning behind it. Quite frankly, I find that quite
amusing. Then there are the people who are or aren't curious--but
either way, they still look at you like you're a threat, or like
you're a freak. Most Christians just seem to be on this never ending
mission to save my soul, put my problems in God's hands and all will
be solved. But what about solving our problems ourselves and giving
credit to God for giving us a brain?
Just because I'm Goth doesn't mean
I'm some kind of freak, or that i must be utterly depraved. I
am who I am because I was born that way; It's who I am. I am a very
social person. I have no problems with just going up to random people
and striking up a conversation. You never really know the lessons
you can learn from just speaking with people.
As a Goth, I am only to be feared if
you have toyed with me or mine; otherwise, I'm easy to get along
with. I just wish society could come together and not fear us the way
they do. We have done nothing wrong. I guess when it comes down to
it, they are normal and we are the freaks. But you know what? Who
can define normal? The definition of normal is: a lack of significant
deviation from the average. Well, what is the real average? This
world is so diverse...
so in conclusion you are declared abnormal only if the average you are in the midst of is opposite of you. So, if I'm a goth in a group of goths then I'm normal however if I'm a goth in a group of jocks I'm not and likewise so really doesn't that make the opportunity to truly define some one as normal virtually null and void? I THINK SO!
Goth is taboo, and so is eating a cow if your a Hindu there's just no true and pure way to define a person as truly normal when it comes down to it we are all freaks the entire world is made up of cultures of different species of freak THERE IS NO NORM!!!!!
please respond with your view points
^v^Elizebeth^v^
Since I have written this I have changed some, because things have happened I now fear most people I am still kind of social but there are flaws however, my opinion still stands, and it has always been easier for me to trust within my own niche...
stress of the fall
she lays on the ground
her hair spun around and around
blood red in the leaves
she waits for some one to come
for the guardian that she never found
she spins her magic in the trees
each tear that trickles down
another leaf falls to the ground
she spins her magic in the air
another day that passes
it grows colder
as she grows older
still her eyes of
lofty innocence
and daydreams
of the fog
she glistens in her waiting
as she spins her magic round
the world is changing
to her complaining
and shes taking it all down
as
she lays upon the ground
her hair spun around and around
blood red in the leaves
she waits for some one to come
for the guardian that she never found
i can feel it rise in me gentle tides rolling thick in the breeze they are calling within me let her in they beg
she is falling fell upon you a caress of a gentle motion
she is breathing deep within you she is calling out
break the silence break the summer veil to let her through
velvet gown sways with each step silence fills the void twig that breaks in the forest is the earth that quakes
her breath cast in air visible to all
her sound is swish like the leaves falling around her eagerly bow to her
and everywhere she steps summer withers at her beckoning pale frosty fingertips and she is worn a pedestal doth never held the sacred of her sworn but she is lore
to them to all who never met her she is myth to them to all that never rose to her occasion the complication
they say she dines among the elk and sings a wolf song to her beloved moon at night
she is the legend of the fall she is the fall she is the secret to all the untold lies she is forever
and she will make her own demise and fold together with the passing tides the air will chill around her in her repose icy death fall cast upon her till the season beckons her to come again
she woke with bitter tears to find the light betrayed her and the dark her closest friend she fell to save the hours of the pain and tattered bend her dreary lids close into the vacant fog and she is lucid in her hell
her breath is the hollow of her heart and her fingertips a tingle with the chill of lack of touch and she has fallen to find the light betrayed her and the dark her closest friend she fell to save the hours of the pain and tattered bend as her dreary eyelids close into the vacant fog a gilded mist to covet her keeping her from her last sigh and she is lucid in her hell
what do you do with a fallen angel broke of wing and bound by string what do you do with a fallen angel to weak to move to scared to scream
she rode in with the tides but never rode them out now she is covered in sand and soot as she cowers without calling out
what do you do with a fallen angel broke of wing and bound by string what do you do with a fallen angel her voice a whisper inaudible to even the wind her eyes two shining orbs of obsidian glass her skin a pale translucent white her lips are twisted emotionless and dead
what do you do with a fallen angel broke of wing and bound by string what do you do with a fallen angel her heart once full beats bitter blood poured forth from barely open lids above sunken cheeks and shallow breath
what do you do with a fallen angel broke of wing and bound by string to weak to move to scared to scream hold her into her dark night and let her pass with the nightingale that lullaby's her to dead flight
i can smother noise drown it into a pillow or choke it with under water but i can't kill silence
a million sounds of silence as i sit here typing out emotion as my life support i just cant kill silence
my fingers claw my arms bitterly and cold i stare out darkened windows there is no one out alive i just cant kill the silence
it washes over me like liquid fire burning me to nothing i sit here every night in the same spot at the same time and with the same person every night myself and it kills me i just cant kill the silence
a cold bed welcomes me the light of the moon shines down nothing but countless pillows and a sea of blankets to cradle me to my grave
so quiet so cold so damn alone i would scream if i could but the silence chokes me instead my skin chills and the silence grows the night hearkens and the tears fall i just cant kill the silence
fake it for a little while but never forever always when the song is over the reminders start to rise i am alone really alone and i just cant kill the silence...
they made me take the make up off they said don't hide yourself don't hide your world from us they said you are beautiful you are strong and so i did i was scared but i did
they stroked my long silken hair out of my face and they touched my tears upon my face they loved me once i thought what it was supposed to feel like what i had never had and i was scared but i tried
they sucked out every piece of hidden i had they ate it all and they force fed me affection as if a starving kitten and i was scared but i obeyed
and in the span of twenty minutes they found my darkman and in the span of twenty seconds they banned their world from me i was scared and i was alone
everyone goes, everyone fades no one ever really stays i sit here cold alone pacing like a caged bird i beat my head upon the walls and crumple in corners i scream when i cant do anything else and i fall
people changed me humans changed me was i ever human am i human now? am i anything?
was i ever really happy will i ever get something anything something???
when will my love come for me when will i be fixed how many tears do i have to shed how many nights alone always fighting the urge the urge to just press down a little harder just a little harder i beg myself it wont last long it will pass and the cure will last forever
when will i be touched the way i was meant to be touched when will i breathe the way i was meant to breathe
my god this isn't a poem it is a fucking train wreck help me help me help me
i feel fall i can smell it in the air i can taste it all the spices of the winds you can't retrace it see the colors spread in reds and golds yellow tints and browns, and folds within a banquet of mesmerize a fall of mystication
but none of fall so falling but the chill within the air as i stand beside the strangers calling out to mistress fair
her rounded pale cheeks and her runic rustic hair her voice is smooth as cider and her touch as soft as flair
she is beautiful by far than the Lisa, Mona smile and the tinkling of her step upon the ground calls the hounds to beg, beg, beg and the tinkling on the ground will call the hounds
yes my dearest dearest she is fall herself her small indignant fingers waver in a quaver in a runic sort of fashion and her breath the chill of winters trumpet dangling at her beckon call
she will last forever she is never ever better if you strive to hear her calling you will never see her falling though her name quite a deceit upon the tame though she is fall she will never though she is fall she will never ever
Mistress of the fall you lie in wait what you cant take you kill death the dead and dying what you heal you cannot feel it makes no matter in this deal
mistress of the fall your wheels have spun and spun again through bitter winds the piercing chill the frost pressed down on eager sunrise never waits for it's disguise
mistress of the fall you beckon me with every call i gasp and cower knees quake the mountains roll and you forever a rusty brown foal
mistress of the fall why does thee wait for canons fire for rusty quake you tumble into winters breast a thrumming rumble at best
mistress of the fall why do you call ever so ever so
mistress of the fall though you never you are won to gods of runic breeze and elk
and linen trees
mistress of the fall i beseech thee at your chilled and porcelain feet i beseech thee
lend me your wisdom to pick up with my fall lend me your breath that i might chill with the stall your voice that i might carry through the winds a rival beckoning flag through the seasons of my dispares
mistress of the fall i beg thee knee upon dirt i gravel to you weep at your auburn robes dry my tears in your rustic blood hair
mistress of the fall i will be your death in the barren linen trees to the leaves that fall i am your beloved death my repose to you as i fall
i am bitter today and lonely. today i want to crawl into a hole and hide the world from me, because i am no good for the world right now, because i am poison and tainted, because i will hurt and be ravenous, because the animal in me is hatred and loathing, because i want to destroy, because right now i want to hurt, to feel it, i want to die again to make them pay to show them what they have created, to show them what it is they fear because i am not me anymore because i do not want to feel anymore because it will not let me go i am bound by the tip of a pen and it wont let me go i have sold my emotions to ink and stale paper and there fore have only the right to feel that which the pen has givin permission to feel it was the price i paid to write, to feel whatever the pen wants to write to remember and to remember and to die over and over and over again and people will read it and people will love it and they will never know the blood i have spilled so the pen could write
the tears that fall with every slap of every word and every claw digging into my back with every curse i have ever written has been that which the pen has ordered it is too late i have already made my choice it is to late'
do you know how many times i have died, how many tomorrows i have seen my cards were played long before i was real and every time i awake another little piece is gone a little less humanity a little more hate i will die and die again until i have no more left but they will know my words and then it will matter not that i have ever lived
it is a never ending cycle each life i live i will live in death i could beg you to stop it i could beg you for a solution i could cry for you to end it and still half of me wants it needs it can't survive without it
the same pain that is killing me is the same pain that is keeping me alive how do you become hate and sadness without the misery of both why do i have to bleed why do i have to be the guardian the protector why do they have to look up to me
can't they see what i am don't they see the same poison i protect them from is exactly the same poison i am made of that the dark is what i have sworn myself to in the light of good that i am the black in spite of the light why don't they see it