MirrorIt helps when you cover up with makeup,because you feel your too ugly not to.To help when you think something is stuck in your teeth,because mom's cooking always seems to.To help when you're taking a picture of yourself,because no pictures should come out blurry and ugly.And yet it doesn't help me see who I am.It doesn't help if I look into that mirror,To check and see if I'm still awake,If I'm still alive.Or am I daydreaming again?Lying in my own world of nothingness.Where nothing has to make sense,Thus there must be nothing.This thing that I throw down at the ground,Shattering it to pieces,Because it showed a cracked reflection,Of myself.It wasn't like the time that I didn't look in the mirror,While taking a picture.The picture came out blurry and unclear.But it was as if I weren't doing anything wrong,To make anything bad happen.And yet for some reason, It is whenever I look in a mirror that I get a glimpse of who I really must be,and realize that the ima
Can Someone Please Show Me The Way?Anathema, The Beginning and the End>>> http://grooveshark.com/s/The+Beginning+And+The+End/4zuW0L?src=5 <<<Inside this cold heart is a dreamThat's locked in a box that I keepThrough The Mist by mheuf829 by SlevinAaronThrough The Mist by mheufMight swim by mehrmeerThrough The Mist by mheuf829 by SlevinAaronThrough The Mist by mheuf829 by SlevinAaronBuried a hundred miles deepDeep in my soul in a place that's surrounded by aeons of silenceYou Are My Solitude by MartinStrankaThose Days by AnemiasymptomYou Are My Solitude by MartinStrankaThose Days by AnemiasymptomThose Days by AnemiasymptomYou Are My Solitude by MartinStrankaThose Days by Anemiasymptom
midnight for two.a pile of books on the floor.sunrays are coming through.and she's already lost.
StruggleSometimes depression iseverything you know.It creeps from insideand it swallows you whole.Other times love is anoverwhelming fright.It's all you can feel,but you hold it in tight.Then there are timeswhen there's nothing inside.When empty is status quoand everything's on your mind.Every day is a struggleAnd every day is my fear.But worst of all is the dreadof not knowing what will I feel?
Heartbeat of a GhostI sit all alone in the darknessSilence surrounds me everywhereBreathing is the only sound I hearI continue to sit here pondering nothingBut wait, what’s that sound I now hear?A new sound fills this room, growing louderIt seems to be getting closer, the rhythm quickensI look around for the source, but come up emptyI grow scared, fearful of the unknownBut as I listen, I sense a familiarityI know what the sound is, a heartbeatBut not just any heartbeat, your heartbeatCould it be possible? How can I hear such things?Your heart was buried six feet under as was your bodyOr was it? Could it be my mind playing tricks on me?Does my mind long to hear your heartbeat so much?So much so, that it’s making me hear nonexistent sounds?Am I missing you more than I think I am?Am I not really over your death like I thought I was?Hearing this brings back memories of all those daysWhen I would lay my head against your chestAnd do nothing but listen to your heartbeatIt was p
Continual dispersion[We almost always live outside ourselves, and life itself is a continual dispersion. But it's towards ourselves that we tend, as towards a centre around which, like planets, we trace absurd and distant ellipses.]Music(Thought from Fernando Pessoa)
...you've got the rain following youaround like a sad tunedancing atop of cloudsthecrows are loosingfeathers likepetalsoff of flowers.[it's melancholy .]