legend has it
she possesses
a serpentine mind
mischievous,
cunning,
and downright
ruthless
an envoy of
scorned maidens
and a lilith
in her own right
men would fall for her
and she
treacherously
would let them fall
to her.
The loss of the drive or the motivation to do something that you used to love?
Huh, I think I have hit that point, multiple times. Hasn't everyone for different reasons?
I just didn't think it would be in writing
Maybe it wasn't just that, there must be a deeper more complex reasons why
Why I've stop, why there is no meaning behind the words or just meaningless crap that just thrown all together just the sake of writing
Why maybe I only write based on what see, hear or feel about something and not having any connection towards it anymore?
Or maybe I am just way too into myself
Judging my own ideas, opinions and just disregard them
Loss of
I balance the knife in my hand,
feeling the weight, gripping it tight.
Unworthy of life, unworthy of love:
is it worth continuing the fight?
Everything I think I know
is proven to be a lie.
I cut my finger on the edge;
with one more cut, I can die.
My life is unnatural, a deception,
and a farce worthy of satire.
I feel that my deeds will go unnoticed
in the long run when I retire.
I have left no lasting impression
on anyone who knows who I am.
I will leave as I came in to life:
slaughter given to a lamb.
A mess of red will be all that's left.
The air will escape my lungs.
I may smile the way my grandfather did.
I may be not
Delusional Angel. by rociobelindamendez, literature
Literature
Delusional Angel.
Delusional Angel.
Twist my mind up, influence me.
It's all a dream darling, don't think it real.
We're just passing through; or is life passing through us?
Wrap yourself around me, love––
hold me through the storm.
Do you feel that beating, love?
––it's in sync with the universe.
Life is but a moment; surging through eternity.
This, right now is but a coinciding instant.
We have survived the world, lovely. Do you see it?
Remember me in the morning dear, tonight is absolute.
Pale pink lips and sweet bits.
Sketches and coffee spots.
Full moons and breaking points.
Vinyl vibes and genuine conversation.
Red wine and l
I want to pluck off every one of her petals
and leave behind the shell of a flower.
He loves me.
I want to rip out every piece of his hair
and make him ugly,
so she won't call him beautiful anymore.
He loves me not.
When I shall die
I ask not for a coffin
To display my mortal body
To the Earth beneath.
I ask not for a funeral
A celebration of my life and memory
Though both would be soon forgotten
I ask not for roses nor lilies
To slowly rot away in coherence with me.
When I shall die
I merely ask for a stone
With my name etched onto its soul
And of this stone I beg,
To remember me
Remember I was here , that I existed,
For all eternity.