Life isn’t fair

So think of it like this:

You’re down 1-3 players grab your musical chair

Someone will always lose their seat.

And if it’s you, don’t give a care

It’s just a game.

Right?

drowning...

she’s breathing in fire...

killing herself slowly any way she can...

her

head

is

getting

so

numb

just

like

the

ice

that

f

l

o

a

t

s

in her glass............

..............it

tastes

all

so

b

i

t

t

e

r

l

y

sweet...

...we all love something toxic

Sweet desires

Dangers and bitter liquids

Little girls who are liars.

Peer pressure will put you on a stretcher

Guys with bad intentions

And the bed is where he lead her

Youngsters and peer pressures, all leading each other to adventures

But these adventures are false reality that will one way or another

Turn into a nightmare that you won’t escape

And addictions

They seem so small but they aren’t fictions From far aways in books

So they’ll take it

And they’ll take it again

I may be addicted but at least I fit in

Golden locks deceiving me and my perception

Trust broken with manipulation

Little games we play

But no longer.

I forfeit.

Not because I am intimidated

Not cause I am scared of losing

But because I am tired.

Tired of having all this toxic shit.

One second you are fine, the next you slap me in the face and “oops sorry that was an accident”

But I am done.

I’ve had my fair share.

And

I

Am

Done.

The sun, the moon

A picture perfect photo.

With complications, told in this storybook.

I have yet to read the rest

Watch the story unfold

Maybe some fairytales are real.

I will read, I will see

What the authors will choose

An endless fairytale, never to unfold?

The happy ever after?

Or the book due? Ready to be taken up, never read again?

Some choices are in need to be made

Are books and stories and fairytales true?

Thorns and roses.

Roses and 4 leaf clover.

Lucky or painful love?

Or just plain out thorns.

A trickster’s mask as an angel up above

He defends the thief and suffocates the innocent victim.

He falls for the bastard’s little act.

Thinking he is doing everything for the good.

He mocks her, telling her that she is lying.

Things like this is why little girls and boys don’t ever learn to tell someone.

Because sometimes people just can’t listen.

A simple wildflower

Watching a wildfire.

Helplessly watching everything crumble and fall.

A dangerous eclipse.

Burning each and every path.

It’s painful to see

The destruction that love can make.

So many beautiful things, wilting and falling

Build up a tower

Just to bring it down.

I can’t tell whether I was really seeing the sun or just blind from her light.

And if I really saw the moon in the morning sky or if it was just a glare in this picture perfect photo.

His hexing eyes

Casting spells that entrance me

No.

I can’t fall in.

But every time he calls my name.

Every time he looks my way.

Every time he talks to me.

I get lost.

I slip back off the cliff.

I just know I will have a hard landing.

Unless magically he catches me...

Unless...

No.

He’d never. Never feel the same.

But

Maybe. Hope grips at my heart.

Desperately trying to rewrite my mind to think in positive scripts.

I’m supposed to be the spider. Spinning the web. Not the carcass in the web, waiting for their acceptance.

Silly stupid me. Letting him pull the strings and control me, I am not a puppet.

Yet he gets to walk my mind whenever he likes.

You whisper

Toxic.

Toxic reality spat into my head.

Such a smart ass you are.

I would fight you.

But you’re so tiny and weak compared to me.

You couldn’t stand a chance.

I don’t fight others who aren’t my size.

I don’t like hurting others.

But you do.

Sticks and stones may break my bones.

But your words are razor blades injecting poison into me to sustain my pain.

Yet I hold that smile, high and proud.

You don’t just get to tear me down.

My non-existent presence will haunt you.

So you can hold your Medusa’s tongue

And watch me be happier and with less snakes slithering around.

Disappointed.

I wish you were mad at me.

Disappointment is worse.

You disapprove of everything I am working on.

When I say I am working on it, you tell me it’s not good enough.

It hurts me.

Not being good enough.

Not.

Good.

Enough.

Ever.

What will it take?

I have spent my whole life.

My whole life on making sure everyone else is happy.

With who I am, with whatever happiness I had.

Fake smiles is all I have left.

I am happy for only so long.

Until it all comes down.

But there you go, I will be your therapist and help you. I will be here for you.

You won’t be there for me.

I want to tell everybody but I won’t.

I will expect someone to come to my rescue.

Me a damsel in distress.

Hard to imagine.

Hardened to the point I can’t cry.

Can’t cry for help.