glittering-butterfly

Open Book I'm stuck in this living hell Feeling nothing but rage I feel like an open book And I just can't turn the page I'm screaming on the inside But smiling on the out You hate everything I am Of this I have no doubt You feel like a sore That just won't heal And you're just like dried skin Just beginning to peel You think you're my romantic You think you're my one true love You act like you're 'the one' Sent to me from above But, in reality, you're nothing But an annoying little bug And right now I'm thinking Of your grave that should be dug

White Dove You broke me down You made me bleed You made me cry You made me feel less than me You broke my heart I'm nothing anymore But what you made me I'm just your little whore I feel no pain I feel no love You made me this way I'm no white dove Laying in a pool of blood Seeing nothing but white Wishing it were you instead of me And I'm walking towards the light

"Hey, babe, what's up?" My boyfriend of two years, Brian, jumps about a foot in the air and shoves something in his guitar case, slamming it shut and spins around to face me. "Oh, nothing. Nothing at all, Cyn." Now, contrary to popular belief, Synyster Gates cannot lie. At least, not to me. I narrow my eyes at him, crossing my tattooed arms over my chest. "Brian Haner Jr. get to explaining. You know I can't stand a liar." The look of shock on his face floor me. "How can you call me a liar like that? All I was doing was going over some lyrics that Jimmy wrote yesterday. That," his voice sounds so cold, and his stance shows his anger, "wasn'

Never, in all my life, have I felt like this. Not even on the stage, singing out words straight from my heart, have I felt so alive. I feel as if nothing can touch me here, break me down. I'm falling, even though I'm not even standing, and if I reach out my hands I can touch a true morning star. I wonder, do the gods feel this, this incredible power, as they look down at the world? Do they feel as if, maybe, the world isn't strong enough to hold such beauty? Is that why it is in a place few care to venture? Is that why this beautiful, bright snow only rests on the tops of the mountains? Is that why the clouds rest far below here, and why the

Next Contestant I judge by what he's wearing, Just how many heads I'm tearing, Off of assholes coming onto him. Each night seems like it's getting worse. And I wish he'd take the night off, So I don't have to fight off, Every asshole coming onto him. It happens every night he works. I stood near the doorway of the bar and strip club, my arms crossed, my blue eyes meeting with those of my boyfriend as he sauntered out onstage. I gripped my arm tightly, sure enough to leave half-moon shapes to match those on my hips from Davey's small hands. Not even ten minutes ago, our hands and lips were connected before he pulled away, telling me t

I can't help the tears that fall down my face as they lower your body into the ground. I can hear the sobs from those around me, and the priest's last words, but they're nothing more than a background noise. A arm snakes around my waist, another around my neck, both pulling me into the welcoming warmth of a tight embrace. The smell of cigarettes, roses, and an indescribable smell fill my nose as I bury my face into the folds of a jacket and let my own sobs escape my throat. Another pair of arms wrap themselves around me from behind and I know it's my brother. His tears fall on the back of my neck, those tears making me cry all the harder. It

Beat, raped, I've been deceived I've been hurt by the one person who mattered Belts, whips, bottles, and glass You ask, he used it, he didn't care if I lived or died And at first I liked it, I enjoyed it, I thought he loved me But I was wrong, oh so horribly wrong I was just a toy, his favorite doll He yelled, he cursed, he screamed And all of it was for nothing He thought it was fun to see me cry To hear me scream, to watch me bleed And then, he was gone, he never hurt me again Of course he was dead, and I know because I killed him I made him feel everything I felt, think everything I thought I made him cry, whimper, scream, be

It's not often that a bride walks down the aisle, her eyes downcast behind her veil, with tears following down her face. But most women don't marry men they don't love, and they don't know that their future husband is hiding behind that bright smile a secret that would shock the world. I have to be the woman that just wants to leave her past behind her, that would say those two words that would seal her in a loveless, faithless marriage just to save a man from shame and hatred. I have to be the woman with compassion, with a heart that can't say 'no'. I raise my eyes to the face of the man I'm about to give my whole life to, and I can't help