Created: May 23, 2020
Last modified: Sep 1, 2020, 12:49

I have worn a covering,
a shroud.
I have hidden it for you.

Yet, the second I show who I am,
you step back.
concerned.

I’m not minacious.
I’m not violent.
I’m not comminatory.

I’m insecure,
I’m sketchy.
I’m exposed.

in the slightest chance that you don’t adore me,
step away.
draw nearer to the edge.

Just say for once and for all that you don’t
need me…
move

farther away
this is you
giving me who you truly are…

step away.

Created: June 26, 2022

Modifications: None

Needed knowledge:

red= strength

Blue= weakness

Purple= weakness and strength talking together
or strength controlling (Darker red) weaknesses speech.

Dark yellow= host speech

 

Don’t speak of weakness
This play is mine and I’ll run it
To my tune

He cuts his mental day short
And now is acting like a clog
In the spokes

Such atrocities he once felt weird.
Now all of a sudden, he wants to happen-

“Through all the mental breakdowns I’ve taken.
I always thought committing such a sin is weird, but after thinking about it.
It may not be such a bad choice.
I won’t have to write out this play we three run in.
You could find a new host to help.”

 

He speaks.
What bullshitt
He’s a hypocrite.
A charlatan
A bigot
A bloody Dissimulator

After all this time he finally
decides he wants to die by his own hands.
The same hands that call this act PUTRID.

It’s these damn poems he writes. Instead
of getting another therapist he just shuts
himself into his gray cave and writes until he
thinks the pain is gone.

It’s not gone, and it’ll never leave.
His bleeding pleads will never succeed.
He’s a failure we have brought through trial.

And bloody fucking trial time
And time again
But no let him…

He’ll change his mind.
He’s the reason why the dreams he has of
being killed feel so real.
Disgusting he imagines his dear friends.
pulling the trigger

Slitting his throat
Silencing his breath

When behind that veil
Is his ugly mug doing every deed?

But fine we’ll leave with this message of truth.
so, it’ll speak through his mouth and he’ll
know who wrote it as it’ll be the last thing, he
reads

I hope you.
can see it in the way we look at you.
Disappointment
Disappointment
Disappointment
We (well I) tried to warn you.
We are not what you think we are.
You are a failure whose seeds have long.
sprouted
The only thing you are good at is being a
dissimulator and a disappointment.

Characters involved.

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Created: May 15, 2019

Last modified: May 19, 2019

In this life
I once felt hope.
I sometimes still believe in this,
but each moment a little less.
I feel abandoned in my despair,
and it’s difficult to repair.
I get broken more each day some more,
keeping these emotions in my core.
I find myself hiding behind this smile,
the one that shows my denial.
I have thoughts of lonesomeness,
which no person should possess.
I camouflage this so well;
it feels like I’m in hell.

I hurt on the inside,
trying to push these demons aside.
I want something better,
to not feel all this terror.
I know it can be manageable;
some things make life tolerable.
I just cannot find the thrill,
like when I was a child with a one-dollar bill.
I remember when dreams were imaginable,
but now it feels like I’m undoubtedly fallible.
I wish to find myself soon.
This feels as if I’m trapped in a cocoon.
I would like to hatch,
not be so detached.
I need to end this coldness,
before death leaves me soulless.