Suburban-Penguin

No hope now, the tears can flow, without heasitation, instead, replaced, with bitter hatred, (and a touch of dread). Your stories of angst, and threats of self-mutilation, and bitter regrets, will mean nothing, when the time comes, to pull the trigger. But everyone has angst, which causes the blood, to drain the face, you know you're only, simply, annother statistic. You've seen through the frivolity of life, but know you're stuck, forever, in the pain of self-hatred. No songs can save you, no tears will sympathise, no chance will come thrice, and above all, none will care.

I walk through the woods, alone, unafraid. The light splatters, and shines, on the leaves. This place is not new to me, nor is it old, its simply... there. But, as I walk amongst the hidden trails, I see things that make my blood run cold. Little white things, only an few inches high, walking amongst the trees. They have a simple head, one large & small eye, and a tiny little mouth. Just holes, tiny black holes, to see and eat through. Their bodies are small, with no neck attatched, and just some arms and legs. It's doesnt look like they have fingers, or feet... just tiny little arms and legs. I'm scared. They don

I'm alone in a crowd. Everyone I know is here. Every face, familiar. The Room is small enough, and the crowd, large, and pressing, isn't helping. The walls are closing in, closer, closer, and closer, with every second. I try to talk, to warn the others, but I can't. My mouth, appears to be stitched shut. I try to get someones attention, to grab an arm, hit a shoulder. But I can't, my hands just pass through, and they carry on, their idle conversation, never even seeing me. I spin my head around, looking for someone, anyone, who can see me. But then, my eyes, they fall upon the mirrors, that run along the wall

Ever notice how when you're in love, the whole wide world seems to turn into something else? At one moment, everything is rushing by, screaming, whirling, and never, ever, stopping? And but a moment later, the world is just, standing so very, very, still. It's crazy, thats what it is. 'Cause when the worlds not a blur, passing by, a million miles a minute, it's perfect... The grass is a perfect green. The ocean a perfect blue. The sky like a mirror. The breeze a mere whisper. You get nervous, you want to know why the world, can't make up it's mind. Why it's going, back and forth, back and forth! Every morning y

Some days, she is unstopable, unbreakable. But others... she is breaking, falling apart. Her life is a roller coaster, and her friends are there, but not always. Sometimes she rides alone, but its ok, her friends will be back on, soon.... She is not "normal", She is not "crazy", She knows shes not the only one. But if only she knew, how extraordinary, she really was. When others laugh at her, she laughs along, each time, a knife through her heart. When she makes a joke, they laugh along. Which is expected. But when she cries, she cries alone. Her friends are too busy, to pay a second glance. She makes excuses,