Post by Graveyard Goddess on Jun 20, 2005 21:55:02 GMT -5
She
She was the sickness that came about, and divested me of vigor
She my hates the way my mind works and criticizes my figure
She grabs me by the hair at night, and yanks it so tight I cannot feel.
This thing she is—so excruciating, makes me wonder if I am real.
She tells me “I must feed upon you now. So go ahead, you pick the place”
I am not sure just what to do, as the tears run down my face.
She says “Come on baby, its only pain—It’ll make you feel alive—
Little girl you are so weak, without this you will never thrive.”
She sinks its teeth into my neck; into my arms, while I silently plea.
I look right at her daunting eyes, as she looks straight at me.
It happens oh so quickly, that I can’t even think,
Then suddenly my blood is flowing, crimson down the sink
She smiles and she looks at me—she’s staring deep into my soul.
Without a voice she lets me know, that she is in control.
I look into her face and nod my head, as she agrees the same,
“See that mark, I made on you? Precious, it’s keeping you sane.”
I then see her eyes soften. Suddenly her smile seems endearing.
I can’t understand how she’s the girl, who I am always fearing.
I look back at her and thank her, for everything she’s done.
“Should I make another darling?—for you can never make just one!”
I’m lost for words to speak, but nod—so she gets the clue.
“Doesn’t it feel even better, now that we’ve made two?”
I feel like she really cares and she wants the best for me,
She knows how it feels to be in pain—
to stare into the mirror and hate what you see.
Unexpectedly, the phone rings and it snaps me back to life.
I look across from me, to see, that I’m holding a knife.
Glancing down at my arms wondering, "where did she go?" and I realize how much blood she drew and how fast it could flow
What concerns me even more now, is that I’m, holding her blade
“You’re staring at the devil poppet—and I’m watching you fade.”
“Where did that thought come from?” I think, while staring in my eyes
I hear her taunting voice again, “a girl like you deserves demise.”
She is the sickness that came about, and divested me of my bliss
She likes to eat me inside out, and give me give me scars upon my wrist
She hurts me in many different ways, but the thing that hurts most to see,
Is that when she looks into the mirror, she is looking straight at me.
I wrote this year 2003 on the first day of school
She was the sickness that came about, and divested me of vigor
She my hates the way my mind works and criticizes my figure
She grabs me by the hair at night, and yanks it so tight I cannot feel.
This thing she is—so excruciating, makes me wonder if I am real.
She tells me “I must feed upon you now. So go ahead, you pick the place”
I am not sure just what to do, as the tears run down my face.
She says “Come on baby, its only pain—It’ll make you feel alive—
Little girl you are so weak, without this you will never thrive.”
She sinks its teeth into my neck; into my arms, while I silently plea.
I look right at her daunting eyes, as she looks straight at me.
It happens oh so quickly, that I can’t even think,
Then suddenly my blood is flowing, crimson down the sink
She smiles and she looks at me—she’s staring deep into my soul.
Without a voice she lets me know, that she is in control.
I look into her face and nod my head, as she agrees the same,
“See that mark, I made on you? Precious, it’s keeping you sane.”
I then see her eyes soften. Suddenly her smile seems endearing.
I can’t understand how she’s the girl, who I am always fearing.
I look back at her and thank her, for everything she’s done.
“Should I make another darling?—for you can never make just one!”
I’m lost for words to speak, but nod—so she gets the clue.
“Doesn’t it feel even better, now that we’ve made two?”
I feel like she really cares and she wants the best for me,
She knows how it feels to be in pain—
to stare into the mirror and hate what you see.
Unexpectedly, the phone rings and it snaps me back to life.
I look across from me, to see, that I’m holding a knife.
Glancing down at my arms wondering, "where did she go?" and I realize how much blood she drew and how fast it could flow
What concerns me even more now, is that I’m, holding her blade
“You’re staring at the devil poppet—and I’m watching you fade.”
“Where did that thought come from?” I think, while staring in my eyes
I hear her taunting voice again, “a girl like you deserves demise.”
She is the sickness that came about, and divested me of my bliss
She likes to eat me inside out, and give me give me scars upon my wrist
She hurts me in many different ways, but the thing that hurts most to see,
Is that when she looks into the mirror, she is looking straight at me.
I wrote this year 2003 on the first day of school
