|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
It's not abuse
There are no
no outlandish scars
no black eyes
I told myself
I will not be fooled again
I told myself
he's realized his mistakes
I always said,
if it was me,
I'd leave after the first strike,
the first blow,
there were no blows,
there were no strikes
it was just a bad situation
bad things happen,
once in awhile,
all of his stories are the same,
they were all crazy,
he was just trying to help them,
don't bother with her,
she's a basket case
nothing matches up
there are no truths,
there is no substance
I feel sick.
it's not like that,
you're just over-reacting,
that's not what I said,
you're just hearing what you want to hear
I've been had.
No matter how much I tell myself,
that getting anxious will do me no good,
that I should be above all this,
that it will just make things worse
my body hums with anxiety,
it will never
puppetPuppet on a string, puppet on a fucking string,
Manipulate me, make me dance,
I'm your entertainment,
Like a wounded animal caught in a trance.
Round and round I go, on parade, its all for show,
I'm your entertainment; I'm your toy,
Here when you're lonely, here to bring you joy.
I can't see this ending, but then I couldn't see the start,
Broken and torn by you,
Yet you still hold my heart.
Its broken and bleeding,
Lying in your hand,
Tightened my strings, too hard to stand.
I'm here, I'm waiting for you to appear,
Tangled in my strings, caught within my fear.
When will it end, make the spinning stop,
I am your paper doll,
Tossed aside and crumpled,
waiting for you to smooth me out or set me alight.
A slap across the face is like a tender touch,
I would give anything for you to look at me again
I am your paper doll, crumpled and forgotten.
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.
Keep in Touch!