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".BeatzzOfButterfliezz." by K_Love

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I just want to scream.
A thousands voices spreading into butterflies from my lungs.
Monarchs running free from being held so captive against a frail heart.
And every inch of me beats.broken.drums.





I want to run.
Lift stumbling feet into non-gravity air.
I want to hear my bones crush as they fall into wet concrete.
Sinking into something solid.





Just so I know how to stand straight.






Throwing a burden off my neck and forgetting.
Pretending.
That friendship meant more than anything.
Than a sober night at an open bar.








And I hate every metaphor.
That you throw into my lungs.
Just so I can think with swollen nerves.
And you can laugh at every imperfection.








While you twist every shard of sobriety into drunken wounds.





I’m sick.
So sick of words, of paper, of every fucking thing that keeps me living.
While I carve plots out of characters.
Because fiction seems so much better than feeling real.








And I hate nights.
Where I’m screaming through a phone cord.
Breathing dust of so many things that have been left untouched.
While watching butterflies escape through trapped cocoons.








And I’m left there sitting on metaphors and similes.





Just because you couldn’t personify your lungs to speak my name.








&.
What is it like you ask.
To tie ribbons around wrists.
And erase sketches from slivered bones.
What’s it fucking like.







To feel every fucking piece being ripped away while I fly.







&.
I never saw you.
Never saw you running for the shards that kept me hidden.
For the pieces to tie me back together.








Never saw you inching for hope.










& I’d like to breathe now.
Through swollen words and dishonest promises.
And through a frozen heart.
I ran. & screamed.
Just to hear what it’s like to be completely shattered.























Only to realize I’ve never been crushed.
























Just uneasy with monarchs locked inside a muted voice.
Waiting for a slight touch to know how to feel again.

















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If you [Log In] as a member you can discuss this work with others

On Thursday December 28th, 2006, dying angel (1340) writes:
ok so i had to come back and leave a real comment. "I’m sick. So sick of words, of paper, of every fucking thing that keeps me living. While I carve plots out of characters. Because fiction seems so much better than feeling real." that part hit me the


On Thursday December 28th, 2006, dying angel (1340) writes:
hardest...i know exactly what its like..to write and write, to pound your pain into words because it's the only thing that helps. the anger in this is so intense, i love you to pieces.


On Thursday December 28th, 2006, TwilightMelodies (1072) writes:
"Pretending. That friendship meant more than anything." *cries* Goodness...hoping friendship can overcome everything and anything, knowing it couldn't possibly withstand time and pain...gorgeous imagery love...~*Beth*~


On Wednesday December 27th, 2006, xDollx (46) writes:
Just uneasy with monarchs locked inside a muted voice. /Waiting for a slight touch to know how to feel again. Amazing.


On Wednesday December 27th, 2006, Bridge (353) writes:
damn...i was enveloped in this..amazing


On Wednesday December 27th, 2006, dying angel (1340) writes:
GRRRRRRRRRR. you rock my world!


On Wednesday December 27th, 2006, K_Love (691) writes:
Haha I LOVE UUUU


On Wednesday December 27th, 2006, heartdripsblack (759) writes:
this is so full of rage and anger. im bookmarking this one. nice write. ~red



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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/5052/91997 on Sunday September 07th, 2008 12:06 AM

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