I recently found out my younger sister started a blog! Give her a read and maybe a follow?

https://jojoyspeaks.wordpress.com/2017/04/05/shades/

She feels the pain that she has yet to sustain
She feels her heart 
Is hopeless, shattered into parts.
She lives in Metaphore.

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All The Broken Pieces

Finding someone to hide the pain in is easy. 

You go to them with a broken heart, they hold the pieces together, until you almost feel whole. 

Then they’re gone. And you’re left with not only a broken heart but now a few pieces are gone. Missing. Taken by the very person you thought was helping you put it back together. 

Sorrow of a Song

Trying to keep it alive

When you can feel it die

Looking in their eyes

And knowing it’s goodbye

The end of the road

A story at its close

The sorrow of a song

You’ve been avoiding all along 

One you’ve known so well

Because it’s only yours to tell

The words that you wrote

A single song sung note

You crafted it your way

So none of them could stay

This Side.

I keep a cool front.

I’m clam, level headed.

In control.

Issues? None.

I’m

In

Control

But I don’t know.

I don’t.

I know

I’m failing

Falling

It’s all pretend.

Don’t want to be me.

Or be my friend.

Psychotic

Fucked up

Terrible, mean

and that’s just the one side of me.

See?

Suppression

Repression

I’ll try anything

Please,

Just help me

hide

This side of me.

Harder

It’s getting hard to breath, hard to see

Hard to know what I need

Suffocating, Drowning deep

Falling farther into the sea

Monsters grabbing, pulling- Reach

It’s your hand I see

But the water overtakes me

And now these things they break me

Your words they could not shake me

Because you did forsake me

As the scene fades

Just another day

Just another girl

Who’s lost her way

Lost in the crowd

Getting harder to tell

Who is this me

She’s not who

I thought I’d be

But someone else

So plain to see

I am so lost to me

Poetry.

I have realized lately that I hace neen posting a lot of poems (and only peoms.) I guess that’s just what kind of mood I’ve been in. It also seems like everything else is so much harder for me to write, it isn’t how I think. My journal is all poetry. It just makes more sense to me, I feel as if it’s more expressive. So that’s what I’m writing.