The Screaming of My Blood
(18+)
My blood is screaming. It wants to get out. My skin is itching. It wants to feel the blade. The demons are yelling. They want to take over. My thoughts have been tainted. They’ve turned to dark and cold, black and blue. They don’t want to feel the sun, they want to shy away from the light of day. My blood is screaming, my skin is itching. It’ll only be a little one. At least at first. My blood with rush for more. My skin will burn in delight. My demons with cheer, cheer of excitement. They will be pleased with me. Maybe just a few more. The blood is pouring out now. It’s struggling to stop. My skin is crying out in pain. I’ve done too much. My demons have disappeared, left me to feel the effects. Left me to feel the sting, the dizziness from all this blood. But my blood was screaming, it wanted out. My skin was itching, it wanted to feel the slice of the blade. Now that it’s out, there’s nothing left. The demons are no where to be found. The blood is all but gone. It’s all over the floor, on my clothes, in the water. The blood has stopped screaming. My skin has stopped itching.
2018-10-04 22:20:27
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Приходи (RU-UA)
Черничные пироги, молоко с мёдом. Приходи. Почитаю тебе стихи и раны замажу йодом. Буду исцелять поэтапно все твои трещинки и порезы, даже в твоё заледеневшее сердце, поверь мне, — смело полезу. Повір! Залізу без страху. Без жалю, не боячись. Бо наше розпалене вогнище змушує бути хоч чимось. І тільки не хвилюйся — ми не розчинимось. Ні одне у одному, ні у часі. Мы снова столкнёмся, неспособные противостоять этой связи. Истощенные, но в друг друге, нашедшие дом. Якщо не перше життя, то і не перший том. Не перший різновид мов у моїх віршах. Не найдёшь меня в жизни? Отыщешь во снах. За той дверью, где я нам в пирог добавляю чернику. Приходи. Мне одной без тебя здесь ужасно дико.
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Question 1?/Вопрос 1?
The girl that questions everything,is a girl that needs many answers.She wanders the earth trying to find the person that can answer her many queries.Everthing she writes has a hidden question that makes her heart ache and her head hurt.She spends days writing sad story's that she forgets her sad life.Shes in a painful story that never ends,she's in a story that writes itself.The pages in the book were filled ever so easy,because her heart wrote it for her.She spent her life being afraid,that's what made it so boring.Finding her passion was easy,but fulfilling it was the hardest part of all.Her writing may be boring and sad,but it's what keeps her sane. "She had all the questions in the word,and he had all the answers." Lillian xx
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