I would sell my soul for a soul worth keeping.
- Locked by The Coldest Sun on Oct 19, '21 5:50pmReason: Locked at creators request.
Thread Topic: I would sell my soul for a soul worth keeping.
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what can I even say at this point?
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maybe
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tired of feeling like this!!
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oh god
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Is everything okay? :(
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not really but I'm gonna pretend for a little while lmao
how are you doing? -
howdy dad :3
(btw i hope chu feel better soon, whatever's going on <3) -
howdy son
and thank you -
Maybe the sky's falling down around them babies.
Maybe the world is gonna spin out of control.
I don't care anymore. -
Yesterday I caught myself thinking
I might save myself some grief
and by midnight I was underwater -
But this morning I woke up
with a hangover -
And I have been told what I can do with this quiet rage,
churning like storm clouds behind my eyes.
Hold it behind my teeth and let it slip discreetly from my lips
in venomous shards embedded in the spaces between my words
so that no one even realizes they’re being attacked.
I have learned to utilize this anger in acts of violence
against myself and only myself,
that the public should not be forced to cope with my pain.
To take my fury in my hands and let it sink into my skin,
to let it sprint across my wrists and bury into my shoulders,
to welcome it like I would a beloved friend,
because thrashing for the rest of my life would be so very tiring.
You see, I’ve been planning for years.
Reached that point where there isn’t a point
and I’m ready to start acting on impulses I’m afraid of
just to prove that point (or lack thereof). -
I stole the stars from the sky,
little pinprick lights,
dropped them at your feet
and let them die.
And though they may
have lost their shine,
I like to think it matters
that I reached into the night
and stole what rightfully belongs
to god,
or maybe just
someone with money,
f---ing NASA,
just for you. -
You used to lay by my side in bed,
feed stories into my head
as I kiss the sweat off your face,
treasure the heartbeat in your chest.
You used to tell me that,
years ago,
you found something so precious
that nothing you possess
can measure up,
that you’re bored of health
and wealth and
fame and
blood,
and I have tried with every
fiber of my being to find
something to give you,
settled down on one knee
and extending my very life
to your beautiful hands,
to slide onto your ring finger. -
You looked at me like you were bored,
and of course,
of course you were.
“My dear, there is nothing beautiful
about death.
Damn the poets and
damn their breaths.
Each sigh is another promise
that your demise will find you
and I
never want to lose you.”
And with that,
we swept those fragile wisps of light
under the rug.
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