I bleed black, dripping onto the page.
Words form through the thick sludge.
Describing the pain I can not say.
Hands moving, across a single sheet.
Powerful words flow though the pen.
Painting with such deep colors.
Through graphite and ink, I sing.
There's No Place Like Home by PaintingxRainbows, literature
Literature
There's No Place Like Home
Some see their home as a safe haven.
I see mine as a cage, trapping me.
I see a happy family of three,
And the girl who doesn’t belong.
Words of discouragement are all I hear.
Along with her voice.
The voice of their precious angel,
And them, praising her.
I taste the bitter sweetness of salty tears.
The taste of self-loathing.
The savor of hatred for not being perfect.
I am no stranger to this flavor
I smell the dinner they prepare as I sit alone.
It’s always something they choose.
Even though it smells delicious it makes me sick.
Sick to know they decided it without me.
I can feel the scars on my wrist,
And the ache in my he
Late nights conversing about nothing,
You were the only person I trusted.
It felt easy to tell you things.
You used to call me princess,
And you were my prince charming.
Smiley face wars and deep talks,
About dream dates on beach walks.
Fading away, I can still see your face,
But my legs have given up on the chase.
Where have you gone, when I need you most?
I hope life's good, there on the coast.
Behind These Bars by PaintingxRainbows, literature
Literature
Behind These Bars
I am trapped in a world that is not my own.
It was made by those who are said to love me most.
Kept in the dark, I cry myself to sleep.
Like a caged bird, my wings are clipped.
They hold me here as if I were a hostage.
I dream of a place where I can be free.
Where my scars can fade until they disappear.
Where I no longer have to shed these pointless tears.
I’m ready to see the world behind these bars.
What is this feeling?
Nostalgia maybe?
The sickness is back.
So are the panic attacks.
Again my trust starts to slip.
But I keep a finger to my lip.
And a smile on my face.
Leaving no trace.
Of my silent screams.
I can never live for myself.
Always living for everyone else.
Stress overwhelms and swallows me whole.
Being forced to give up on all my goals.
Rasing myself was hard enough to do.
Now you expect me to raise my little sister too?
I have things I need to get done.
But apparently that doesn't matter.