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* ???? . - parks. - 07-03-2019
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drowning , but you don’t save yourself . walking home at 3 am . flowers littered amongst a graveyard . heaven with a whole lot of hell . warm heart , cold hands . unsent texts . a strange feeling of loss . bruises and broken bones . everything i know is borrowed , broken , or blind . deep roots in the ground slashed open in the sun . a soft , hollow spot sits in your chest . there’s a part of you that couldn’t stay away even if you were forced to . there’s a place you’ll never leave no matter who tries to stop you . you are the coffin . you edge a bit too close to the sun . the ache of wanting what you can never have . the romanticization of self-destruction . nostalgia that aches . the way hope feels like a plastic bag over your head . death as bricks in the heart . perfection depicted as a rotting corpse . falling in love with being alive . self hatred grows inside you like a tumor . heart sewn on white sleeves , red blood staining it . the urge to break free , to snap - but never getting the chance . protecting similar stories from becoming a tragedy . past issues piled up neatly . empath gene kicked to eleven . i will follow you into the dark . the struggle against your mind and your heart . wandering somewhere between darkness and light - between dream and reality . time will destroy me slowly . all with freedom in our minds , yet we were its slaves . found such peace , still it was a constant war . we were one : my shadow , my fear , and me . now she’s doomed to die . i’ll bleed ‘til the death of my soul . that’s what i hope , but i don’t believe anymore . digging my own grave , i'm shot down in flames . promises were made out of lies . see that hell is what we chose . selfish crucifixion . you're full of tragedy . thorns blossom in your lungs . so sad , so beautiful .
* ???? ?????? . - parks. - 07-03-2019
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Quote:" you can hold my hand , we can play in the graveyard ; dream about joining it . "
Quote:[color=#484848]" told my mom i wanted to be the grim reaper and she said no , so i had to kill her . "
so , further playing with that recurring theme of her and graveyards , her hate for christ , and acceptance as a person who is only capable of destruction ; a graveyard is where she'd spend most of her time when alone . often visiting during late night and remaining until early morning ; that's where you'll find her . walking along the gravelled pathway , she observes each headstone , carefully reading each message engraved . or sometimes , she'll find herself lying beside one , imagining herself in the place of the one buried below ( envy ) ; or , the one's she'd wish she could bury . she'll run her fingers across each inscription , or as she sits beside one , she'll pick the flowers from the ground and idly play with it . however , she leaves each delicate petal untouched and returns it once done . other times , she may come intoxicated with only the intentions of fucking around ; dancing around the field or even on top of the headstones . she often likes to bring her notebook , settle on top of a headstone , and begin to write . all used as inspiration . she likes to take photos as well where she'd later add to a scrapbook of " beautifully morbid things " . other times , she finds herself talking to those graves ; in search of an answer she knows she'll never receive .
however , there's a night she visits and she stops to look at one grave , and what's written , she can no longer bear to look at because everything here , she realizes , is so goddamn ugly . all this death ; messages of love and sorrow ; of appreciation of what was and will never be again ; all those left forgotten and alone . just being there . it's disgusting , and she absolutely hates it because they got so fucking lucky ( envy ) , yet none of them deserve it . she hates it . she hates it so much , she resorts to dealing with it the only way she knows how : destroy it . instead of admiring the flowers she once thought to hold so much beauty , she tears them from where they rest and strips them of their petals . she grinds what's left ; nothing more than a ugly , broken , ruined stem into the dirt of its own grave . she kicks the headstones she used to seek guidance from ; scuffs up the mud its rooted in . and then suddenly , she just gets this urge to set the whole goddamn field on fire . just because she could . she wants to set that whole goddamn field on fire . one day ; she'll set that whole goddamn field on fire . they call her a devil , so she'll show them exactly what hell is ( wrath ) .