Words to My Demons | Poetry ✔️

By when-they-write

131K 9.3K 1.9K

❝she was simple, an angel born without wings. yet she was special, an enchanting song her lost soul sings. ❞... More

A / N
S e m i c o l o n ; W a r r i o r s
G l a s s_S l i p p e r
M a r r e d
W o n d e r l a n d
F a n t a s i s t
D a r l i n g
V i l l a i n o u s
M a l e f i c e n t
S t o r m
T o _ t h e _ D e m o n s
P r o m i s e
M a d n e s s
F l y
P a r a d o x
G o o d b y e
H y p r o c r i t e s
B l e e d i n g
S t a r s
P a r a n o i a
"P r o m i s e"
E n d
B r o w n - e y e d
R o s e
B l a c k h o l e
B e s i d e
D r e a m s
M o n s t e r s
H a p p y
L i b r a r i a n
Q u o t e s - P o e m s
F i n e
A d d i c t i o n
S h o w
F a t h e r
L e t t e r
#Midnight Sun
S c r e a m
L a n g u a g e
W e s t
F a d i n g
M e m o r i e s
C o l o r s
D e a r
L o v e
F a k e
B l i n d
W a n d e r e r
A s y l u m
S o r r y
D i s e a s e d
D e a d
B r e a t h
D e a f
M a g i c
P a n i c
S m i l e
M o n s t e r s
D e d i c a t e d
N e v e r l a n d
S i m p l e
D i l e m m a
D e m o n s
D e a t h
D e r a n g e d
F u t u r e
H a n g m a n ' s _ C l i f f s
W o l f
L i g h t
L e g e n d s
R e a p i n g
O Z
A d d i c t e d
F i r e
W o r d s
P r o m e t h e u s
L i e s
D r o p
S e n s e
N o r m
D a r k _ G r a c e
U n k n o w n
i f
N o t h i n g
I n s e c u r i t i e s
R a w
C o n c e r n e d
P r i s o n
N i g h t t i m e
C o l l a p s i n g_S t a r s
E m p t y
B r o k e n
Words To My Demons
Final Note
B l e e d
A w a r e ?
t r a n s

W i l d

1.3K 95 14
By when-they-write

Yeah,

I'm a little nutty.

A little crazy.

Quite plucky.

A little ruddy.


The bad apple,

fallen far from the tree.


But I think,

if only you looked around.

Then just maybe,

maybe you would see.


That there are a lot more people,

out there.

A lot more people,

who are just like me.


Those of us,

who stand out,

out from the crowd.


Breathing in,

different air.

Talking just a tad,

oh, just a tad too loud.


With a crazed look,

deep in our eyes.

That smile on our faces,

only makes us seem wise.


But if you came out,

when the moon turned red.

You see us gone,

up and out,

out of our beds.


Racing through the shadows,

volume at full streak.

And maybe you'd join in,

if only you could see.


That you fit in perfectly,

with the wild ones.

You fit in perfectly,

with the wild ones and me.

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