Damn it.I can't write, my words are dull.
I try every night, everyday, everytime.
All I can hear are the voices telling me what I am.
The voices I shut out, they scream, rattling my fingers to a stop.
I have to stop writing.
It's not good for me.
How did my first cure become my worst nightmare?
Silent screams are the words I want to write,
Instead, my silent screams turn into silent cries.
I long for my words to be my weapon, my sword.
At the moment, my words are nothing but my demons.
My pen is nothing but a blade across my skin,
That I stop from doing because pain only tires me.
So I stay awake, hearing the same voices.
They say I'm boring them,
They say my words mean nothing.
They say my feelings are made-up.
They say I'm pretending to be sad.
Why do I cry then?
Are my tears just plastic pearls?
Are you, demons, a figment of my imagination?
Alive in my mind, the source to my destruction?
-LovableConundrum
°○°○4/10/2018°○°○10:55 a.m °○°○edited: 7/7/2019
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