Somebody please hate me;
I'm being serious, can't you see?
I can't stand those cold looks;
I'd much rather you be mad and throw books.
So please, I'm wallowing in my guilt;
And the little creature that's in my head is on repeat.
I'm about to smash my head into the floor;
So come through the door.
And hate me.
I'm begging you, hate me.
Because at least I won't be the villain here;
I'll be the underdog and everyone will cheer!
But for now, I'm the villain;
And you'll never know the thoughts in my head;
Because I'm too dumb to tell you.
Hate me
Her wings be not white
but blackened and burned.
Singed by the fall
her actions hath earned.
Her grace is absent.
Neither here or there.
I cannot find it
and I do not care
for though her halo
be shattered and rent,
it changes not
that she's heaven-sent.
She told me her story
And I wouldn't close my eyes:
She feels like she could have filled a river with her cries.
She told me her story
And I would listen:
She prays for the sun to go down when she has risen.
She lays in her bed and fears the day,
Fears them all and what they're gonna say.
The clock does just not tick fast enough,
She always thought that she was tough:
Prepared for the merciless world outside,
Prepared for the horrors that haunt her at night -
To be the dangerous monster and beast
She expected her own kind the least.
Don't worry: she's alive,
That's why she told me her story.
Don't ever think that this is fun -
It could hap
Yet Another Princess in the Tower. by shelleypalmer, literature
Literature
Yet Another Princess in the Tower.
I’ve waited here for goodness knows how long, with my head hanging out of the small window of the tower, my hair trailing down in long, blonde seraphic curls, feeling miserable and hungry but not without hope. I don’t want to risk a passing prince not seeing me, so I wait, watching the seasons taunt me.
Winter is obviously the worst. He pinches my cheeks vermilion and then contrasts his artwork with lashings of frost on my eyebrows. He breathes his lungs into mine and then laughs as my chest distends in agony. He mocks my hair and tangles it with ice fairies who slide upon it to the ground, fly back up to where my neck meets my s
i am not your therapist
but if thats what you want
i will try to do what little i can
i am not quite your friend
but if thats what you want
i blame myself when you feel hopeless and lonely
i am not really your lover
but if you want
i think you know by now
as many years as it takes
i just hope you remember
“What’s on your arm? What’s on your thigh?”
I scratched myself, darling—but I will be fine.
“What’s on your wrist? And why do you cry?”
Oh, silly—they’re signals, they’re my warning signs.
“Why are there tears coming out from your eyes?”
They show that I’m breaking. My laugh’s a disguise.
“What’s on your forearm? What’s on your mind?”
I’ll be okay, darling.
I just wish to die.
Don't mind me, I am just here to exist,
occupying forgotten spaces in your midst.
Forever alone in this sorry state of despair,
living a wretched life most aren't even aware.
Don't look up from that breeze to your side,
or notice the smell of sorrow where I cried.
To be such an invisible, unpronounced being,
disappearing into the darkness, ever seeking.
Lost in the shadows, a presence easily missed,
please don't mind me, I am just here to exist.
I stare hard at the face beyond the glass
"What have I done?" to the face I ask
Dearest scars forgive me you were never meant to be
My peace of mind facade is shattered in front of me
I pray for the days I'm shrouded by rain
My fortress of solitude, a palace of pain
A melancholy walk through autumnal leaves
To the icy cold bite of a winters eve
My dreams in darkness guide me home
To the haven beyond the ice and snow
Thaw now my heart with warmth and smile
Lead me to your hearth I've been cold a while
Undo my shackels of blisterring ice
Flames carress as I'm purified