* ?????? // ???? .

[parks.]

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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.]

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"  you can hold my hand , we can play in the graveyard ; dream about joining it  .  "

[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 ) .