You are so much more

didn’t appreciate you as much as one might
And maybe you might want to blame me
And I hope you do because it is my fault

It is not your fault that you let me in and I couldn’t keep my door open enough to let your light in

It is not your fault that you felt so deeply for someone who makes webs out of people and fights to weave through it when the person packs up and flees

It is not your fault that you are choosing happiness over heart ache, if anything, isn’t that more rewarding than going to bed wondering whether someone is going to leave or not?

You are a strong light, not just a strong shoulder for those who can’t always feel.

You are not a sponge even if it seems like you just keep soaking and your heart keeps growing

You are not the broken promises used to build you up and destroy you lower

You are not the pain you feel or the people who try to take your good things away

You are you, you are yourself, you are a good person

You are doing what’s best for you and you will get through

To you, CinFox.

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Graved Truths

I’d be lying
If I didn’t try
To tell you the truth
About wanting to lay down
Inside and stew
In my own grave

I’d be lying
If I spilt but didn’t cry
Whenever I needed to escape
This headspace cave
Built from nothing

Clarity Strength

Sober are those who swell with a wicked sharp, intoxicated are those who shed a Meaty sleeve

Hidden amongst some, mixtures of both clarity stain and mocked strength.

Little do we see, but assume things are translucent where they lay intertwined 

Welcomed are those who believe the darkest woes are the truest way to deflower one’s apathy 

Slowly sorrows swim across the devilish rivers whenever I walk into their little dabbling cemeterial crossings

Sprouted Somethings

It seems the darkest lollies are dancing                                                                                                                                   squirming at the sheets you pulled over us that night                                                                                                                 and where were you when they stopped uprooting?

Sudden sprouts where your orphices had caved prior to the                                                                                                   accident your mindspace adapted as a freight change                                                                                                               jumped and called you home when you needed something

Your words stopped making sense when your demons scratched                                                                                                 at your back door screaming, waiting inside your vined beat

Caving Ends

I’ve killed off parts of myself to keep others from caving in, ending themselves 
Now I fill those dead ends with their’s to open back up
I walked to the bottom and risen higher than I needed to, fell back and flipped it all over and watched myself sprout 

Lost Ambitions

I turn the corner and there I am even without a mirror

I look up at the stars and                     my past ambitious self creeps up

I walk to the river bank and                 the water reminds me of all the obstacles I haven’t over come yet
I talk to new people and                        all I can think of is how much I’ve lost myself to

Exhalation Masses

Stinging from the slowly growing masses, he decided to keep trudging, thorough and deep strides

Knowingly stomping through the grounds of massacreic meanderings, he didn’t care that his hopes were becoming his own version of hell, created and formed, designed for the soul purpose of getting used to a taste of a place he would soon know

Desire for the rupture, storming approached lessons, he ran through every detail that troubled his empty sockets, charging as he plugged in the waves

Walking, realizing that everything he breathed in were just remnants of everyone else’s exhalations, carrying their burdens and making them his own so that his appeared disadvantaged

He wanted to be invisible only because that’s what he was used to, so he trudged into the place he knew well, the corners of every crevice of every memory and sliced them in pieces, threw them into his veins and slowly drowned them as he was drowning with the loudness of all his thoughts