Acting on impulse,
reaching for my lifeline,
my nicotine.
How I crave it so.
I beg it to bite me,
harder and deeper than ever before.
to feel it breaking through my pale skin,
the warmth of blood rising though the gap.
To watch as it gathers at the surface then elegantly flows down the length of my arm.
waiting for the beats from my heart to increase in speed,
that feeling where everything seems to light and weightless.
How I just long to feel again.
I hunger for the crimson drops.
The sharp sting followed by the cool rush.
I will, because I have to.
I do because I have to.
I cry because I have to.
And I will do it again and again because I have to.
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
We Who Bleed.
We Who Bleed
We are those who chose a road less taken.
We are those whom appear to be normal,
yet are labeled "deeply troubled and emotionally unstable"
We come from different backgrounds and different pasts,
yet we all share one thing, one secret.
We all suffer from pain and sadness.
We all fall back upon it's glistening, smooth, savior-like self.
We run to it, we beg it to release us form our bonds.
We rely on this lancinating pain, to save us from the unknown.
Outside we smile and laugh, inside we scream and cry.
You can't see it, you can't read us.
We mask ourselves, so no one sees our vulnerability.
No one can know.
We are grouped and placed where you want us to be,
given names and branded like cattle.
"Emo kid!" they say "stay away, their crazy and only want attention!"
Is this who we are?
Pushed aside and mocked.
Hence why no one can know.
We are the ones who create our own paths.
We mark our-selves to feel alive.
We are not bad people,
we are not sick people.
We are people like you, just with other ways to discard our pain and frustrations.
We don't want attention, we want freedom.
We want help and someone to lean on.
We are prisoners of ourselves.
We are people, we are humans,
and we shall stand strong together,
break free from our chains, and step forth into the light,
out of the suffocating darkness, together.
You just have to believe,
we all have a heart that beats like yours.
We can be free,
We just have to believe...
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
We are those who chose a road less taken.
We are those whom appear to be normal,
yet are labeled "deeply troubled and emotionally unstable"
We come from different backgrounds and different pasts,
yet we all share one thing, one secret.
We all suffer from pain and sadness.
We all fall back upon it's glistening, smooth, savior-like self.
We run to it, we beg it to release us form our bonds.
We rely on this lancinating pain, to save us from the unknown.
Outside we smile and laugh, inside we scream and cry.
You can't see it, you can't read us.
We mask ourselves, so no one sees our vulnerability.
No one can know.
We are grouped and placed where you want us to be,
given names and branded like cattle.
"Emo kid!" they say "stay away, their crazy and only want attention!"
Is this who we are?
Pushed aside and mocked.
Hence why no one can know.
We are the ones who create our own paths.
We mark our-selves to feel alive.
We are not bad people,
we are not sick people.
We are people like you, just with other ways to discard our pain and frustrations.
We don't want attention, we want freedom.
We want help and someone to lean on.
We are prisoners of ourselves.
We are people, we are humans,
and we shall stand strong together,
break free from our chains, and step forth into the light,
out of the suffocating darkness, together.
You just have to believe,
we all have a heart that beats like yours.
We can be free,
We just have to believe...
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
Friday, December 12, 2008
Slenderize
The slender, flawless surface,
no bumps or protrusions,
just the flat, thin, stomach.
The so desired look, which I wish to embody.
Oh how I long to be trim and skinny.
Just to have a filamentous midsection,
perhaps then I would feel much more confident.
There are ways, many ways in fact,
but for me I see one,
I don't know if I can do it, it shall be a challenge,
one I am willing to attempt.
So far it's proven to be quite difficult,
I like to indulge in food, so to cut it off is rather hard.
I am sure I can do it, I just need to first strengthen my will power, that's all.
I hear you can get slim fast being anorexic.
I suppose it's worth a shot, right?
Yes, this is what I shall do,
the slender, smooth, and utterly fat less,
this is what I want to be.
This is what I will be.
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
no bumps or protrusions,
just the flat, thin, stomach.
The so desired look, which I wish to embody.
Oh how I long to be trim and skinny.
Just to have a filamentous midsection,
perhaps then I would feel much more confident.
There are ways, many ways in fact,
but for me I see one,
I don't know if I can do it, it shall be a challenge,
one I am willing to attempt.
So far it's proven to be quite difficult,
I like to indulge in food, so to cut it off is rather hard.
I am sure I can do it, I just need to first strengthen my will power, that's all.
I hear you can get slim fast being anorexic.
I suppose it's worth a shot, right?
Yes, this is what I shall do,
the slender, smooth, and utterly fat less,
this is what I want to be.
This is what I will be.
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Consumed
Clouds fog my vision
the distorted image of the world is all I can see,
or perhaps this is what it looks like,
I can no longer tell.
I feel as though I have been consumed by the negative thoughts which plague my mind.
It's as though the very blood which courses through my body, is boiling and burning my veins.
It feels like at any moment it will burn right through my pale, weak flesh.
I need to free it.
Fear of loosing what I know, looms above me.
I tread softly as to not provoke the unknown.
I fear my frail and vulnerable heart is cracking,
it seems it may give way under this immense pressure.
It burns.
It crawls and itches.
I need to free it.
This anxiety that has seemed to call my mind home.
Burrowed deep into the nooks and cranny's of my brain.
Latching on tightly never to be removed?
Why has this come back?
How did it find me again?
I fled from it's rule, I broke it's bonds and dashed into the light.
How can it be, that it has come for me once more.
Its scratching and tearing away at me.
your trying to help, yet you don't know how.
I need you, but I need to release this tension as well.
This is the only way I know how.
I need to free it.
Stay here with me,
don't leave me alone, I need you.
Help give me strength to defeat this darkness.
Help me please...
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
the distorted image of the world is all I can see,
or perhaps this is what it looks like,
I can no longer tell.
I feel as though I have been consumed by the negative thoughts which plague my mind.
It's as though the very blood which courses through my body, is boiling and burning my veins.
It feels like at any moment it will burn right through my pale, weak flesh.
I need to free it.
Fear of loosing what I know, looms above me.
I tread softly as to not provoke the unknown.
I fear my frail and vulnerable heart is cracking,
it seems it may give way under this immense pressure.
It burns.
It crawls and itches.
I need to free it.
This anxiety that has seemed to call my mind home.
Burrowed deep into the nooks and cranny's of my brain.
Latching on tightly never to be removed?
Why has this come back?
How did it find me again?
I fled from it's rule, I broke it's bonds and dashed into the light.
How can it be, that it has come for me once more.
Its scratching and tearing away at me.
your trying to help, yet you don't know how.
I need you, but I need to release this tension as well.
This is the only way I know how.
I need to free it.
Stay here with me,
don't leave me alone, I need you.
Help give me strength to defeat this darkness.
Help me please...
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
I feel as though these thoughts of self-disdain have lingered here with me
for as long as I can remember.
Even when I was little I hated certain things about myself.
I can distinctly remember how I perceived myself to be.
I can remember when I was about four or five,
I used to hate the way I dressed, and the way people treated me like I was a baby.
I can remember throwing myself down the stairs which lead to my unfinished basement,
just to see how badly it would hurt me.
I remember feeling very awake and energetic after I did this.
As I continued to grow I can remember being the kid who didn't have the cool toys, or the kid everyone deemed the "side-kick"
I was always the secondary character in games at school. Only when it was just my closest friend and I, was I ever a main character.
In grade two I remember being the "new kid"
and oh how I was over joyed.
"New Kid" was my name for quite some time. I got left out and pushed behind everyone else.
I used to get picked on for the brown splotches on my front teeth, even though it was a medical condition. I have never really been in shape, so running has never been my strong suit. We used to play huge games of cops and robbers which included almost every grade. I can distinctly remember this boy say when I was "IT", "oh it's ok Morgan's it, no one has to run!" I remember feeling so stupid and horrid, I ran away and shouted I didn't want to play any more.
As I reached grade six and on into middle school, I began to think about my appearance and how others must view me. I have always had tremendously thick, bushy hair. I think thats the one, if not the only thing people remember about me from elementary school. On the day of my grade six graduation my mom brushed my hair [which made it really poofy] and only braided a tiny section on each side. Since my hair was quite thick the braids were as well. I felt ridiculous. I can remember thinking of how people were going to laugh at me and I hated myself.
Once I reached grade seven I began to feel very self conscious. I used to only bring apple sauce to school for lunch. [mostly because I was to lazy to make a lunch] and I would occasionally trade them for a tuna sandwich. I tried to fix my hair but it never felt right. I wasn't allowed to wear makeup and I got teased once because I didn't shave my legs. I used to be the target of people's jokes, whether is was intentional or just because I was there. It always used to make me feel alone and singled out. I was never very smart and I think one of the things that have followed me from my very first day of school, is my inability to get good marks. All through out school I got average marks, at times I would get superb marks and be very proud of myself.
I think I only ever got two A's on my report cards. My teacher would always say "Oh if only Morgan would try harder" or "Morgan talks to much, and does not participate in class" Over and over and over I heard these exact comments from all of my teachers, even now. I don't know why I don't "Try harder" it's as if I don't have any drive or inspiration to do so. Marks have always been one of the things I hate most about myself, my weight as well. I have always been the heavier kid. Or at least I believe I have been. I was always quite "pudgy", if you will. I have always had a hard time with my image. I am alway either to fat or to out of shape. I don't know how to wear makeup and I can't do anything with my hair. I have no sense of style, what so ever, and well I don't really know how to accessorise my outfits. I suppose there really isn't one thing I dislike the most. I suppose my weight and my dumbness.
But yes, I guess I just won't change, and I fear that my inability to change and grow will cost me allot. Perhaps it may also keep me from obtaining my goal of University. Of course I don't really have high hopes for that because I have learned that hoping for things often leaves you in the dark.
for as long as I can remember.
Even when I was little I hated certain things about myself.
I can distinctly remember how I perceived myself to be.
I can remember when I was about four or five,
I used to hate the way I dressed, and the way people treated me like I was a baby.
I can remember throwing myself down the stairs which lead to my unfinished basement,
just to see how badly it would hurt me.
I remember feeling very awake and energetic after I did this.
As I continued to grow I can remember being the kid who didn't have the cool toys, or the kid everyone deemed the "side-kick"
I was always the secondary character in games at school. Only when it was just my closest friend and I, was I ever a main character.
In grade two I remember being the "new kid"
and oh how I was over joyed.
"New Kid" was my name for quite some time. I got left out and pushed behind everyone else.
I used to get picked on for the brown splotches on my front teeth, even though it was a medical condition. I have never really been in shape, so running has never been my strong suit. We used to play huge games of cops and robbers which included almost every grade. I can distinctly remember this boy say when I was "IT", "oh it's ok Morgan's it, no one has to run!" I remember feeling so stupid and horrid, I ran away and shouted I didn't want to play any more.
As I reached grade six and on into middle school, I began to think about my appearance and how others must view me. I have always had tremendously thick, bushy hair. I think thats the one, if not the only thing people remember about me from elementary school. On the day of my grade six graduation my mom brushed my hair [which made it really poofy] and only braided a tiny section on each side. Since my hair was quite thick the braids were as well. I felt ridiculous. I can remember thinking of how people were going to laugh at me and I hated myself.
Once I reached grade seven I began to feel very self conscious. I used to only bring apple sauce to school for lunch. [mostly because I was to lazy to make a lunch] and I would occasionally trade them for a tuna sandwich. I tried to fix my hair but it never felt right. I wasn't allowed to wear makeup and I got teased once because I didn't shave my legs. I used to be the target of people's jokes, whether is was intentional or just because I was there. It always used to make me feel alone and singled out. I was never very smart and I think one of the things that have followed me from my very first day of school, is my inability to get good marks. All through out school I got average marks, at times I would get superb marks and be very proud of myself.
I think I only ever got two A's on my report cards. My teacher would always say "Oh if only Morgan would try harder" or "Morgan talks to much, and does not participate in class" Over and over and over I heard these exact comments from all of my teachers, even now. I don't know why I don't "Try harder" it's as if I don't have any drive or inspiration to do so. Marks have always been one of the things I hate most about myself, my weight as well. I have always been the heavier kid. Or at least I believe I have been. I was always quite "pudgy", if you will. I have always had a hard time with my image. I am alway either to fat or to out of shape. I don't know how to wear makeup and I can't do anything with my hair. I have no sense of style, what so ever, and well I don't really know how to accessorise my outfits. I suppose there really isn't one thing I dislike the most. I suppose my weight and my dumbness.
But yes, I guess I just won't change, and I fear that my inability to change and grow will cost me allot. Perhaps it may also keep me from obtaining my goal of University. Of course I don't really have high hopes for that because I have learned that hoping for things often leaves you in the dark.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
"And what have I ever suffered. not one damn thing. No poetic privations or romantic diseases."
- Caroline Kettlewell [Skin Game]
This very line is rather close to how I feel.
When people confront you and ask you
"But why do you do that to yourself?"
There is really no good answer to give them, you tell them why you think you do it and they act as though they believe you, and they tell you some sort of sugary complement that makes your stomach churn and your legs feel weak.
It puts thoughts in your mind that make you second guess all you believe in.
This is why I prefer not to tell them.
I do at times, wish for people to know what I do. Sometimes perhaps even feel sorry for me,
but then I know that is the thing I do not wish to become.
I don't do it for attention.
When I see my friends and people who don't know, I think to myself;
"You think I'm so normal, you like me now, but if you knew what I do, you'd leave and run far away from me"
The sad reality of this addiction is that as soon as you start it's with you forever. It won't go away.
You must think I am obsessed with this.
Well I suppose in a way I am, but I use this blog as a way to relieve stress and anxiety. So think what you want, but if it really makes you think those things then don't come here. Besides most of you who read this know what you are getting into...
I think when people find out what I do they are really surprised by it. The look of shock runs briefly across their face, followed by a gasp of air.
Fuck sometimes I wish I could just leave all this stress and pressure behind me, fuck I can't do this, I am so behind in school, each time I try to do the massive essays and assignments my brain freezes and I can;t function, I hate myself for that. Why can't I just be able to do them? WHY THE FUCK AM I SO STUPID!?
WHY WHY!?
why does it have to be hard!?
I mean why have I always been the stupid one, the one who has to "try harder" or "can do better"?
I really hate myself sometimes. It's not fair, I am so challenged.
Sometimes I want to just disappear.
In grade ten I wanted to commit suicide, but it's apparent I didn't.
Sometimes I still want to, but I do have a few factors holding me back.
One being my love, I care for him so much more then I could ever care for myself.
Another being my sister, I would never want to hurt her or scar her.
but I think thats about it really.
Which I suppose sounds rather dreary.
It's not as though I walk around with a somber expression on my face, many people think I am just fine, the happy, giddy, crazy, over social Morgan.
I suppose I still am, but I feel as though I am looking at myself, the self I once was.
sometimes I feel as though I am watching myself.
I fear I am loosing myself, as though I am being torn apart by every little thing.
- Caroline Kettlewell [Skin Game]
This very line is rather close to how I feel.
When people confront you and ask you
"But why do you do that to yourself?"
There is really no good answer to give them, you tell them why you think you do it and they act as though they believe you, and they tell you some sort of sugary complement that makes your stomach churn and your legs feel weak.
It puts thoughts in your mind that make you second guess all you believe in.
This is why I prefer not to tell them.
I do at times, wish for people to know what I do. Sometimes perhaps even feel sorry for me,
but then I know that is the thing I do not wish to become.
I don't do it for attention.
When I see my friends and people who don't know, I think to myself;
"You think I'm so normal, you like me now, but if you knew what I do, you'd leave and run far away from me"
The sad reality of this addiction is that as soon as you start it's with you forever. It won't go away.
You must think I am obsessed with this.
Well I suppose in a way I am, but I use this blog as a way to relieve stress and anxiety. So think what you want, but if it really makes you think those things then don't come here. Besides most of you who read this know what you are getting into...
I think when people find out what I do they are really surprised by it. The look of shock runs briefly across their face, followed by a gasp of air.
Fuck sometimes I wish I could just leave all this stress and pressure behind me, fuck I can't do this, I am so behind in school, each time I try to do the massive essays and assignments my brain freezes and I can;t function, I hate myself for that. Why can't I just be able to do them? WHY THE FUCK AM I SO STUPID!?
WHY WHY!?
why does it have to be hard!?
I mean why have I always been the stupid one, the one who has to "try harder" or "can do better"?
I really hate myself sometimes. It's not fair, I am so challenged.
Sometimes I want to just disappear.
In grade ten I wanted to commit suicide, but it's apparent I didn't.
Sometimes I still want to, but I do have a few factors holding me back.
One being my love, I care for him so much more then I could ever care for myself.
Another being my sister, I would never want to hurt her or scar her.
but I think thats about it really.
Which I suppose sounds rather dreary.
It's not as though I walk around with a somber expression on my face, many people think I am just fine, the happy, giddy, crazy, over social Morgan.
I suppose I still am, but I feel as though I am looking at myself, the self I once was.
sometimes I feel as though I am watching myself.
I fear I am loosing myself, as though I am being torn apart by every little thing.
Running.
Running through dead fields,
passing trees and fences,
running, panting.
Can't stop, won't stop.
running with a heavy heart,
lungs screaming for mercy.
Keep running, don't stop.
Stop and die, stop and die.
Stop and there you shall stay for eternity,
elected into an early grave.
It's always easier to run,
it's always easier to run.
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
passing trees and fences,
running, panting.
Can't stop, won't stop.
running with a heavy heart,
lungs screaming for mercy.
Keep running, don't stop.
Stop and die, stop and die.
Stop and there you shall stay for eternity,
elected into an early grave.
It's always easier to run,
it's always easier to run.
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
Friday, December 5, 2008
These Four Walls
Four walls create the barrier
I seclude myself in.
These four walls,
should they ever break,
shall cause the end of me.
I find it odd that I don't feel what or how I "apparently" should.
Statistics show that they who intentionally mutilate themselves
do it for a few reasons.
One being because they feel numb or dead, and they need to feel they are alive.
Some do it because they have a past with sexual and or physical abuse either from parents, siblings, and/or guardians.
Then there are reasons like mine,
feeling stupid or useless, left out, or feeling as though you need to be punished.
Another reason is an inability to deal with excessive amounts of stress or pressure,
and having poor self-esteem.
These four walls,
which hide me from the pain,
cannot crack and chip,
they are to strong for that,
or at least I pray they are.
It makes me feel pathetic,
when I hear about others who SI.
It makes me sad to know that the statistics for teens and adolescents who SI are so high.
I begin to hate myself when I hear of this becoming a new "fad"
I want this to be my thing,
the thing I use.
I don't want to be grouped into a category.
Emo or cutter.
It hurts when I hear people say, "oh they do it for attention"
or "don't talk to them cause they are emo and they scare me"
Four walls so carefully placed,
for the safety of their inhabitant.
Secluded and secure,
calmly within the darkness.
It's been estimated that almost 75% of Americans
practice a form of self-mutilation.[www.healthatoz.com]
This very statistic makes me feel so very, common.
I don't wish to be categorized as a general population of depressed teens...
I don't want to be labeled!
I know no one really knows about me and my problem...
just a few, but as far as they are concerned I am over it.
Some times I want to be,
but then I see those marks and I like them.
Does this make me a sick individual?
I know I needed and deserved them.
Four walls
of great escape,
no way in, trapped beneath
their layers of thoughts.
I know I am not the first to cut my skin,
and I know I am not the last.
So I suppose it's selfish of me to wish to be the only one.
Does it make me a bad person?
I understand it hurts others when I SI but,
I don't intend it to?!
I sometimes wish I could hide it form my love,
but he will see them any way.
It hurts more knowing that his previous girlfriend did this,
and now I am doing it.
It must make him feel as though he is cursed
with psycho girls with deep emotional issues.
These four walls,
which stand guard against pain and sadness,
often leave me feeling empty inside,
as though my insides are being devoured.
It all started because of me.
The night before I committed my first act of mutilation,
I was at my closets friend's house.
It was a warm July night, and her parents weren't home.
She decided she would have a party.
Being the person I am I decided to go, not to mention she is my closest friend.
So everything was fine for the first part,
we were drinking, and laughing,
playing music and dancing around like lunatics.
After we had finished drinking, we decided to all go out side.
knowing that we were over drinking, we all just turned a blind eye.
This was my first mistake.
Four strong walls,
yet how strong are they?
Could one little crack,
bring them all crashing down?
For some reason my friend and I separated,
[I believe she left me for a boy...]
So I was stranded with this guy she knows from work.
Mistake number two occurred when this guy and I started to walk.
After wandering the streets we ended up at the school across form my friend's house.
still drunk out of my mind, and barely able to stand,
this guy asked if he could kiss me,
not thinking or doing much of anything,
he got on top of me and started to kiss my lips.
Can four mental walls,
be torn down,
by the acts and decisions
of the one who lives within?
The next day,
almost dieing with guilt I called my love and told him the story.
I could hear the pain in his voice as he asked me questions.
We didn't talk much after that.
I felt so guilty and so depressed, nothing functioned.
I stayed curled up on my bed, buried beneath layers and layers of blankets.
I cried for hours and hours on end,
the tears were never ending.
I knew it was all my fault and I knew I had to pay for it,
all that would run through my mind was the thoughts of us breaking up.
My pencil case as laying next to me
and concealed deep inside was a small yet sharp EXACTO knife.
I grabbed it and slowly drew it across my skin,
making sure it would draw blood.
I did this precisely eight times,
one for each month we had been together.
It made me feel so light and alive.
I knew I deserved them, i knew i needed them.
"Stupid, dumb, fucking ugly whore!"
I yelled these to myself as I cut away at my skin.
At the time I needed them,
at the time the were necessary,
but now I don;t know why I continue to do it.
Now I fear it has become the addiction I heard about.
Now I fear it will go to far and push away all I need, all I love,
all that I live for...
These four walls
in which I place such great faith in,
shan't fall with out the will of their inhabitant
and when that time comes,
for these walls to crumble around me,
I will have moved on from this place,
and stepped foot into the place I once was.
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
I seclude myself in.
These four walls,
should they ever break,
shall cause the end of me.
I find it odd that I don't feel what or how I "apparently" should.
Statistics show that they who intentionally mutilate themselves
do it for a few reasons.
One being because they feel numb or dead, and they need to feel they are alive.
Some do it because they have a past with sexual and or physical abuse either from parents, siblings, and/or guardians.
Then there are reasons like mine,
feeling stupid or useless, left out, or feeling as though you need to be punished.
Another reason is an inability to deal with excessive amounts of stress or pressure,
and having poor self-esteem.
These four walls,
which hide me from the pain,
cannot crack and chip,
they are to strong for that,
or at least I pray they are.
It makes me feel pathetic,
when I hear about others who SI.
It makes me sad to know that the statistics for teens and adolescents who SI are so high.
I begin to hate myself when I hear of this becoming a new "fad"
I want this to be my thing,
the thing I use.
I don't want to be grouped into a category.
Emo or cutter.
It hurts when I hear people say, "oh they do it for attention"
or "don't talk to them cause they are emo and they scare me"
Four walls so carefully placed,
for the safety of their inhabitant.
Secluded and secure,
calmly within the darkness.
It's been estimated that almost 75% of Americans
practice a form of self-mutilation.[www.healthatoz.com]
This very statistic makes me feel so very, common.
I don't wish to be categorized as a general population of depressed teens...
I don't want to be labeled!
I know no one really knows about me and my problem...
just a few, but as far as they are concerned I am over it.
Some times I want to be,
but then I see those marks and I like them.
Does this make me a sick individual?
I know I needed and deserved them.
Four walls
of great escape,
no way in, trapped beneath
their layers of thoughts.
I know I am not the first to cut my skin,
and I know I am not the last.
So I suppose it's selfish of me to wish to be the only one.
Does it make me a bad person?
I understand it hurts others when I SI but,
I don't intend it to?!
I sometimes wish I could hide it form my love,
but he will see them any way.
It hurts more knowing that his previous girlfriend did this,
and now I am doing it.
It must make him feel as though he is cursed
with psycho girls with deep emotional issues.
These four walls,
which stand guard against pain and sadness,
often leave me feeling empty inside,
as though my insides are being devoured.
It all started because of me.
The night before I committed my first act of mutilation,
I was at my closets friend's house.
It was a warm July night, and her parents weren't home.
She decided she would have a party.
Being the person I am I decided to go, not to mention she is my closest friend.
So everything was fine for the first part,
we were drinking, and laughing,
playing music and dancing around like lunatics.
After we had finished drinking, we decided to all go out side.
knowing that we were over drinking, we all just turned a blind eye.
This was my first mistake.
Four strong walls,
yet how strong are they?
Could one little crack,
bring them all crashing down?
For some reason my friend and I separated,
[I believe she left me for a boy...]
So I was stranded with this guy she knows from work.
Mistake number two occurred when this guy and I started to walk.
After wandering the streets we ended up at the school across form my friend's house.
still drunk out of my mind, and barely able to stand,
this guy asked if he could kiss me,
not thinking or doing much of anything,
he got on top of me and started to kiss my lips.
Can four mental walls,
be torn down,
by the acts and decisions
of the one who lives within?
The next day,
almost dieing with guilt I called my love and told him the story.
I could hear the pain in his voice as he asked me questions.
We didn't talk much after that.
I felt so guilty and so depressed, nothing functioned.
I stayed curled up on my bed, buried beneath layers and layers of blankets.
I cried for hours and hours on end,
the tears were never ending.
I knew it was all my fault and I knew I had to pay for it,
all that would run through my mind was the thoughts of us breaking up.
My pencil case as laying next to me
and concealed deep inside was a small yet sharp EXACTO knife.
I grabbed it and slowly drew it across my skin,
making sure it would draw blood.
I did this precisely eight times,
one for each month we had been together.
It made me feel so light and alive.
I knew I deserved them, i knew i needed them.
"Stupid, dumb, fucking ugly whore!"
I yelled these to myself as I cut away at my skin.
At the time I needed them,
at the time the were necessary,
but now I don;t know why I continue to do it.
Now I fear it has become the addiction I heard about.
Now I fear it will go to far and push away all I need, all I love,
all that I live for...
These four walls
in which I place such great faith in,
shan't fall with out the will of their inhabitant
and when that time comes,
for these walls to crumble around me,
I will have moved on from this place,
and stepped foot into the place I once was.
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Mistake ridden,
dumb, and untalented.
big hearted, yet foolish.
soft-witted and dull.
confused and brainless.
complete f a i l u r e.
such words can cause great pain,
such words used to scorn and spite.
Such words describe me best.
Despite hardest I try,
I never get any where.
Whether it be marks or general tasks.
I try to work heavily on my image as well,
yet, it seems nothing has changed.
You all can still laugh and joke,
at times it can be funny, but sometimes it really hurts.
I want to go far in life,
but how can I do that,
when I can't even picture my self physically being there in the first place?
I have the only thing I have ever wanted,
I could never ask for anything better,
yet I still seem to some how mishandle that as well.
I guess turning to this habit,
helps me to prove to myself that I am useless.
I suppose that this in a way can help m be a better person,
for in reality each time I fail,
I use it, then I feel better, and for some reason ,
I feel slightly motivated to do better,
so I won't suffer form the pain.
Though, this doesn't really work all that well,
so really it's not doing anything.
Thus in conclusion,
I don;t know what I should do.
I suppose I shall just remain here waiting to see how things go...
[not really a poem more of a rant..]
dumb, and untalented.
big hearted, yet foolish.
soft-witted and dull.
confused and brainless.
complete f a i l u r e.
such words can cause great pain,
such words used to scorn and spite.
Such words describe me best.
Despite hardest I try,
I never get any where.
Whether it be marks or general tasks.
I try to work heavily on my image as well,
yet, it seems nothing has changed.
You all can still laugh and joke,
at times it can be funny, but sometimes it really hurts.
I want to go far in life,
but how can I do that,
when I can't even picture my self physically being there in the first place?
I have the only thing I have ever wanted,
I could never ask for anything better,
yet I still seem to some how mishandle that as well.
I guess turning to this habit,
helps me to prove to myself that I am useless.
I suppose that this in a way can help m be a better person,
for in reality each time I fail,
I use it, then I feel better, and for some reason ,
I feel slightly motivated to do better,
so I won't suffer form the pain.
Though, this doesn't really work all that well,
so really it's not doing anything.
Thus in conclusion,
I don;t know what I should do.
I suppose I shall just remain here waiting to see how things go...
[not really a poem more of a rant..]
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Eloping
The rush you feel
when you relieve yourself of all that pent up pain,
oh how I long to feel it once more.
It's been so long since you and I have eloped together.
Down the halls of this broken old building,
past the classes and lockers,
teachers and hard working students,
quietly shuffling towards the washroom.
Yes to that last stall,
with the deep purple door.
Oh it has been to long.
I wish to rush into it with you in hand,
sit on the floor,
and let you kiss my arms and legs.
Over and over,
the sweet pain of your love,
sends shivers crawling down my spine.
You feel cold on my skin, but I like it,
you are my ecstasy, my pain-killer.
I wanted to leave you, but I think I need you to much,
yes yes, I need you to survive here.
Lets come together again,
your slender blade on my soft skin,
help me relieve this immense pain,
which builds and crawls under my skin,
leave your marks of love upon my body,
so I can look at them and feel alive.
Yes, let us elope once more,
to that last washroom stall...
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
when you relieve yourself of all that pent up pain,
oh how I long to feel it once more.
It's been so long since you and I have eloped together.
Down the halls of this broken old building,
past the classes and lockers,
teachers and hard working students,
quietly shuffling towards the washroom.
Yes to that last stall,
with the deep purple door.
Oh it has been to long.
I wish to rush into it with you in hand,
sit on the floor,
and let you kiss my arms and legs.
Over and over,
the sweet pain of your love,
sends shivers crawling down my spine.
You feel cold on my skin, but I like it,
you are my ecstasy, my pain-killer.
I wanted to leave you, but I think I need you to much,
yes yes, I need you to survive here.
Lets come together again,
your slender blade on my soft skin,
help me relieve this immense pain,
which builds and crawls under my skin,
leave your marks of love upon my body,
so I can look at them and feel alive.
Yes, let us elope once more,
to that last washroom stall...
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Symphonys
Sing your words
in fancy lullabies,
hum the bars of your love to the wind,
and stare blissfully into the sky.
Compose your symphony of emotions,
and play it into the wind...
Toss the notes of pain into the current,
and watch as they rush away.
Listen for the sound of your tears
as they drip off your cheeks,
and land on the pavement.
Watch for the rests,
which lay in between the highs and lows
of your never ending pain.
Oh this concherato of life,
a collection of movements,
taken from the deepest most darkest part of your heart.
Dozens of notes placed most precariously amongst the staff,
rising and falling,
just as you have.
Risen form darkness,
only to succumb to it's will once more.
Oh woe is you,
life is full of wrong and broken pieces,
a symphony of pain and endless sorrow.
you are a composer of your own death,
trying to find the prefect ending to an imperfect being.
The show must go on,
the show will go on,
with or with out you...
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
in fancy lullabies,
hum the bars of your love to the wind,
and stare blissfully into the sky.
Compose your symphony of emotions,
and play it into the wind...
Toss the notes of pain into the current,
and watch as they rush away.
Listen for the sound of your tears
as they drip off your cheeks,
and land on the pavement.
Watch for the rests,
which lay in between the highs and lows
of your never ending pain.
Oh this concherato of life,
a collection of movements,
taken from the deepest most darkest part of your heart.
Dozens of notes placed most precariously amongst the staff,
rising and falling,
just as you have.
Risen form darkness,
only to succumb to it's will once more.
Oh woe is you,
life is full of wrong and broken pieces,
a symphony of pain and endless sorrow.
you are a composer of your own death,
trying to find the prefect ending to an imperfect being.
The show must go on,
the show will go on,
with or with out you...
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
Friday, November 28, 2008
Jamal
Does it always have to be this way?
Each day you have something terrible to say,
never are they kind words.
Oh no no, you MUST find something wrong with me.
Why,
is there always something bad you see?
If you need this to make you feel better,
please use someone else!
You really don't know what it does to me do you,
oh no you don't, of course not many do.
Because of you a few times to many I crossed the line.
Because of those words you spit and hurl at me,
I broke the goal I had kept for some time.
Over and over I take you abuse,
I try not to crack,
but really my efforts are of no use.
I am almost always kind,
yet why bother?
the kind side of your words are hard to find.
Let's solve this problem shall we?
how about I speak not to you
and you to me!?
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
Each day you have something terrible to say,
never are they kind words.
Oh no no, you MUST find something wrong with me.
Why,
is there always something bad you see?
If you need this to make you feel better,
please use someone else!
You really don't know what it does to me do you,
oh no you don't, of course not many do.
Because of you a few times to many I crossed the line.
Because of those words you spit and hurl at me,
I broke the goal I had kept for some time.
Over and over I take you abuse,
I try not to crack,
but really my efforts are of no use.
I am almost always kind,
yet why bother?
the kind side of your words are hard to find.
Let's solve this problem shall we?
how about I speak not to you
and you to me!?
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Please whisper those words in my ear
if it be the last time.
Hold me the way you used to.
Please?
Kiss my forehead softly
while running your fingers along my cheeks,
and down my neck.
Lets sleep quietly together.
let's become one,
moving in unison, once more.
Those passionate memories
I shall cherish forever,
you were my love,
and that you shall always be.
Forever in my heart will the memories remain,
for there in my sleep,
we are together,
happily in love,
in silent peace.
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
if it be the last time.
Hold me the way you used to.
Please?
Kiss my forehead softly
while running your fingers along my cheeks,
and down my neck.
Lets sleep quietly together.
let's become one,
moving in unison, once more.
Those passionate memories
I shall cherish forever,
you were my love,
and that you shall always be.
Forever in my heart will the memories remain,
for there in my sleep,
we are together,
happily in love,
in silent peace.
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
Monday, November 24, 2008
Lace & Ribbons
Soft porcelain skin,
so white and perfect.
Smooth as silk with no blemish in sight.
Auburn eyes so vivid,
they can burn holes right though your soul.
Her long soft hair,
the color of mahogany.
It flows over her shoulders just as water flows over a cliff.
What is a girl like this,
doing in a dark forest?
Sitting alone in a clearing.
All alone.
Her dress, black as the night sky.
It resembles that of the old Victorian kind.
Elegantly detailed with lace and ribbons.
There she sits all alone,
gazing at the stuffed monkey,
she has tightly grasped in her hands.
She looks so sad.
She twirls the little tuft of hair
on the monkey's head.
A smile slowly appears across her lips.
She tilts her head to the side,
as though she is trying to get it's attention,
but since the monkey is merely a toy,
it does nothing.
Saddened by this she lifts her head back up and frowns.
Her lips so full and plump.
The colour of pink forget-me-nots.
So light and pale they complement her skin.
She looks up from the monkey and round at the trees.
A look of disappointment rushes over her face.
What is she waiting for?
Why does she remain there all alone?
She looks at the monkey one again,
then squeezes it tighter, and brings it to her chest.
She looks as though she is grieving.
For what?
For who?
Her head falls, causing her hair to cover her face.
all is silent,
even as she weeps.
She cries for quite some time,
not once can it be heard.
As the light begins to die,
as do her sobs.
She holds the monkey up into the last of the fading light,
which shines upon her face,
revealing stains from her tears.
As the last of the light fades away,
She puckers her lips,
and she begins to hum a tune,
a soft but minor tune.
She looks at the plush monkey and begins to sing:
" Gone, gone, away with the sun, you faded away,
yet nothing to me did you say, goodnight goodnight,
my dear old friend, away away you shall fly like a dove,
away away, you flew from me my love..."
Her voice clear as crystal and pure as ice.
"Away with the sun you did go, forever in the ground, cold like snow, gone my only light, leave me here trapped forever in night.
Here I shall wait for my time to come, for my final breath to leave, for my days to be done.
When that times comes to you I shall run, for you will always be the one"
Tears begin to fall form her eyes again.
She pulls the monkey close and kisses it.
She brings her lips to it's ear
and whispers something,
something soft and gentle.
Once again a smile peaks out form the cracks of her mouth,
even as the tears flow she smiles.
"When that times comes for my final breath to leave, for my days to be done.
Here I shall wait for my time to come, to you I shall run, for you will always be the one
for you will always be the one
for you will always be the one..."
she sings these lines over and over,
her sweet voice begins to wobble and fluctuate between notes,
until she can no longer keep the tune,
and in it's place,
a scream.
The light has vanished replaced by the darkness of night.
as the air grows cold,
the girl with porcelain skin and auburn eyes,
huddles closely to the large oak tree,
and awaits her time, to leave the world,
to be with the one she loves again...
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
so white and perfect.
Smooth as silk with no blemish in sight.
Auburn eyes so vivid,
they can burn holes right though your soul.
Her long soft hair,
the color of mahogany.
It flows over her shoulders just as water flows over a cliff.
What is a girl like this,
doing in a dark forest?
Sitting alone in a clearing.
All alone.
Her dress, black as the night sky.
It resembles that of the old Victorian kind.
Elegantly detailed with lace and ribbons.
There she sits all alone,
gazing at the stuffed monkey,
she has tightly grasped in her hands.
She looks so sad.
She twirls the little tuft of hair
on the monkey's head.
A smile slowly appears across her lips.
She tilts her head to the side,
as though she is trying to get it's attention,
but since the monkey is merely a toy,
it does nothing.
Saddened by this she lifts her head back up and frowns.
Her lips so full and plump.
The colour of pink forget-me-nots.
So light and pale they complement her skin.
She looks up from the monkey and round at the trees.
A look of disappointment rushes over her face.
What is she waiting for?
Why does she remain there all alone?
She looks at the monkey one again,
then squeezes it tighter, and brings it to her chest.
She looks as though she is grieving.
For what?
For who?
Her head falls, causing her hair to cover her face.
all is silent,
even as she weeps.
She cries for quite some time,
not once can it be heard.
As the light begins to die,
as do her sobs.
She holds the monkey up into the last of the fading light,
which shines upon her face,
revealing stains from her tears.
As the last of the light fades away,
She puckers her lips,
and she begins to hum a tune,
a soft but minor tune.
She looks at the plush monkey and begins to sing:
" Gone, gone, away with the sun, you faded away,
yet nothing to me did you say, goodnight goodnight,
my dear old friend, away away you shall fly like a dove,
away away, you flew from me my love..."
Her voice clear as crystal and pure as ice.
"Away with the sun you did go, forever in the ground, cold like snow, gone my only light, leave me here trapped forever in night.
Here I shall wait for my time to come, for my final breath to leave, for my days to be done.
When that times comes to you I shall run, for you will always be the one"
Tears begin to fall form her eyes again.
She pulls the monkey close and kisses it.
She brings her lips to it's ear
and whispers something,
something soft and gentle.
Once again a smile peaks out form the cracks of her mouth,
even as the tears flow she smiles.
"When that times comes for my final breath to leave, for my days to be done.
Here I shall wait for my time to come, to you I shall run, for you will always be the one
for you will always be the one
for you will always be the one..."
she sings these lines over and over,
her sweet voice begins to wobble and fluctuate between notes,
until she can no longer keep the tune,
and in it's place,
a scream.
The light has vanished replaced by the darkness of night.
as the air grows cold,
the girl with porcelain skin and auburn eyes,
huddles closely to the large oak tree,
and awaits her time, to leave the world,
to be with the one she loves again...
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Father
To my father,
I wish to tell you,
that I still love you,
but with a mangled, wounded heart.
You've damaged it,
that is undeniable.
You say you wish to be a part of my life again.
Then I feel as though you,
are going to have to wait for that.
I know this divorce is not your fault,
and I am pleased the both of you are happy,
but father I-I,
I detest you for loving her.
I understand one must move on,
and I am happy also, for you to have found love again,
but I am not happy that you were able to move on,
so quickly.
You tell me you weren't going to wait forever.
Well perhaps a little while longer would have been a little more appropriate, no?
I suppose that doesn't matter now.
What's done is done.
I hope you two are happy.
Buy I shall never meet this woman,
my arms will never welcome her.
You say not to judge her before I meet her,
perhaps I am not judging her but merely you.
Perhaps I don't with to meet her, because I don't with to see you.
Perhaps the thought of you together makes my stomach churn,
PERHAPS THE THOUGHT OF YOU WITH ANY ONE ELSE OTHER THAN MY MOTHER MAKES ME CRY!
PERHAPS this hurts me more that you will EVER know.
Perhaps this, dear father,
is the last thing I will write for you.
Just know I will always love you,
but nothing more than I have,
and nothing more than I do.
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
I wish to tell you,
that I still love you,
but with a mangled, wounded heart.
You've damaged it,
that is undeniable.
You say you wish to be a part of my life again.
Then I feel as though you,
are going to have to wait for that.
I know this divorce is not your fault,
and I am pleased the both of you are happy,
but father I-I,
I detest you for loving her.
I understand one must move on,
and I am happy also, for you to have found love again,
but I am not happy that you were able to move on,
so quickly.
You tell me you weren't going to wait forever.
Well perhaps a little while longer would have been a little more appropriate, no?
I suppose that doesn't matter now.
What's done is done.
I hope you two are happy.
Buy I shall never meet this woman,
my arms will never welcome her.
You say not to judge her before I meet her,
perhaps I am not judging her but merely you.
Perhaps I don't with to meet her, because I don't with to see you.
Perhaps the thought of you together makes my stomach churn,
PERHAPS THE THOUGHT OF YOU WITH ANY ONE ELSE OTHER THAN MY MOTHER MAKES ME CRY!
PERHAPS this hurts me more that you will EVER know.
Perhaps this, dear father,
is the last thing I will write for you.
Just know I will always love you,
but nothing more than I have,
and nothing more than I do.
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
Dull
Stupid and dull.
Is that what I am?
Lazy and slobbish?
Is that how you see me?
Is it?
Just say it, go ahead,
I won't care, say it to my face,
tell me how you truly feel about me mother,
spit it out.
Don't leave me thinking something different, just tell me.
Is that who I am to you?
Huh?!
A lazy, stupid, going nowhere in life kid, who never gets things done?
Is that it?
just tell me, just yell it out.
I want to know!
I'm sorry if I'm wrong mom,
but this is what it feels like...
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
Is that what I am?
Lazy and slobbish?
Is that how you see me?
Is it?
Just say it, go ahead,
I won't care, say it to my face,
tell me how you truly feel about me mother,
spit it out.
Don't leave me thinking something different, just tell me.
Is that who I am to you?
Huh?!
A lazy, stupid, going nowhere in life kid, who never gets things done?
Is that it?
just tell me, just yell it out.
I want to know!
I'm sorry if I'm wrong mom,
but this is what it feels like...
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Letters
I've stopped.
That is to say, I have for now at least.
I have no one to thank but you,
your love and compassion has pulled me out
of the cycle I was held prisoner.
There are those reasons
which also come drifting into my mind.
What other reasons do I have to do it?
Stress I suppose, I don't do well with stress,
but I am not dying, [well not that I know of]
I have you.
My family situation is a little depressing,
and I do not ever think I will be able to ever see my father in the same light I once did,
surely barely talking to one's father takes it's tole.
Things could be worse, yes much worse.
So in all honesty I suppose my reasons for doing this are trivial.
The more I cut me, the more I cut you.
When I bleed, you bleed.
'Tis common knowledge, yet my eyes see not the correct choice.
I know many troubled children do this as well.
'Tis unfortunately not my own secret.
It makes me feel foolish,
it makes me feel identical and indistinguishable from the other loathsome creatures who suffer from this horrid pain.
We all have our own valid reasons, but I wish it were just me.
Sadly I know your eyes have seen this before,
you know this far to well.
I shan't send you back down this road.
I care to much for you.
I am deeply saddened to say,
during an argument with my father last night,
I did indeed inflict wounds upon my skin once again.
I am sorry,
but since my mother took the phone from me,
I could not call you, I needed to call you.
You are my crisis line.
Without you I failed to hold up my walls.
Thus it took hold and away I went.
Needless to say, I know I shouldn't have to rely on you.
I understand that.
Just thinking of you usually makes me not want to do it,
I don't understand why it didn't work this time.
Lately my mother has been saying things that make me feel useless.
" Don't break that, don't do this, why don't you ever help clean"
things like this but all the time.
I have things to do and I know I should help more but it hurts to know
I do so much damage.
I am stressed out, and I know I can be rather harsh and rude.
But it still hurts.
She almost found out last night.
I only did it twice on my arms, but it bled any way.
"are you doing it again?"
she asked me, but in a blunt and coarse tone.
I told her no and laughed.
I am sure even if she did know she would just say it's stupid,
and that I just want attention or something senseless.
I decided that to continue slashing my arm
was a bad idea,
for I have to many sleeveless garments I wish to wear,
so being naive and stupid by continuing with this task,
I sliced my leg.
I thought it was over,
I thought I moved on.
Yet I was wrong again.
I am trying, I can do this.
I know I can.
This letter has changed significantly,
in two days it has gone from positive to negative.
I feel as though this will be the last time I hurt myself.
I want to believe it is the last time.
So again I apologize to you,
not that I want you to read this, for you already know everything I have just said.
So let's forget about this yes?
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
That is to say, I have for now at least.
I have no one to thank but you,
your love and compassion has pulled me out
of the cycle I was held prisoner.
There are those reasons
which also come drifting into my mind.
What other reasons do I have to do it?
Stress I suppose, I don't do well with stress,
but I am not dying, [well not that I know of]
I have you.
My family situation is a little depressing,
and I do not ever think I will be able to ever see my father in the same light I once did,
surely barely talking to one's father takes it's tole.
Things could be worse, yes much worse.
So in all honesty I suppose my reasons for doing this are trivial.
The more I cut me, the more I cut you.
When I bleed, you bleed.
'Tis common knowledge, yet my eyes see not the correct choice.
I know many troubled children do this as well.
'Tis unfortunately not my own secret.
It makes me feel foolish,
it makes me feel identical and indistinguishable from the other loathsome creatures who suffer from this horrid pain.
We all have our own valid reasons, but I wish it were just me.
Sadly I know your eyes have seen this before,
you know this far to well.
I shan't send you back down this road.
I care to much for you.
I am deeply saddened to say,
during an argument with my father last night,
I did indeed inflict wounds upon my skin once again.
I am sorry,
but since my mother took the phone from me,
I could not call you, I needed to call you.
You are my crisis line.
Without you I failed to hold up my walls.
Thus it took hold and away I went.
Needless to say, I know I shouldn't have to rely on you.
I understand that.
Just thinking of you usually makes me not want to do it,
I don't understand why it didn't work this time.
Lately my mother has been saying things that make me feel useless.
" Don't break that, don't do this, why don't you ever help clean"
things like this but all the time.
I have things to do and I know I should help more but it hurts to know
I do so much damage.
I am stressed out, and I know I can be rather harsh and rude.
But it still hurts.
She almost found out last night.
I only did it twice on my arms, but it bled any way.
"are you doing it again?"
she asked me, but in a blunt and coarse tone.
I told her no and laughed.
I am sure even if she did know she would just say it's stupid,
and that I just want attention or something senseless.
I decided that to continue slashing my arm
was a bad idea,
for I have to many sleeveless garments I wish to wear,
so being naive and stupid by continuing with this task,
I sliced my leg.
I thought it was over,
I thought I moved on.
Yet I was wrong again.
I am trying, I can do this.
I know I can.
This letter has changed significantly,
in two days it has gone from positive to negative.
I feel as though this will be the last time I hurt myself.
I want to believe it is the last time.
So again I apologize to you,
not that I want you to read this, for you already know everything I have just said.
So let's forget about this yes?
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
Thursday, November 13, 2008
The way the rain
hits the window,
looks just like the marks
on her arms.
An abundance of small, thin, scattered lines
going every which way.
Try to see the way she sees.
Try to picture the world in greyscale.
Try living in a world where nothing makes you smile.
Try living in a place where there is no warmth, no light.
just cold looks and painful memories.
The way the rain falls,
resembles the tears which fall from her eyes.
The clouds smother the sun,
much like the pillow to her face.
The wind blows strong and harshly,
as do her silent screams, go unheard.
A lonely road
is where she hides.
Seeking solace in the deep dark ditches,
hoping that perhaps one day,
someone will come,
someone will see her and help her.
Hope is all she has.
The way the rain
strikes the window,
look just like the marks
on her arms.
An abundance of small, thin, scattered lines
going every which way.
Roads of pain and roads of confusion.
She's stuck between them,with no where to go,
but to follow the lines
back and forth, back and forth.
But this boy,
whose smile and kindness make her melt,
this boy whom evokes,
a strange feeling that has been gone for so long.
This boy,
perhaps he can help her.
Perhaps with him she can start over,
Maybe now she can move away form this empty road,
and relieve herself from the pain.
Maybe now she can find her way around these lines,
to the place she has always dreamed of reaching again.
Perhaps it is possible to move on...
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
[good luck ...<3]
hits the window,
looks just like the marks
on her arms.
An abundance of small, thin, scattered lines
going every which way.
Try to see the way she sees.
Try to picture the world in greyscale.
Try living in a world where nothing makes you smile.
Try living in a place where there is no warmth, no light.
just cold looks and painful memories.
The way the rain falls,
resembles the tears which fall from her eyes.
The clouds smother the sun,
much like the pillow to her face.
The wind blows strong and harshly,
as do her silent screams, go unheard.
A lonely road
is where she hides.
Seeking solace in the deep dark ditches,
hoping that perhaps one day,
someone will come,
someone will see her and help her.
Hope is all she has.
The way the rain
strikes the window,
look just like the marks
on her arms.
An abundance of small, thin, scattered lines
going every which way.
Roads of pain and roads of confusion.
She's stuck between them,with no where to go,
but to follow the lines
back and forth, back and forth.
But this boy,
whose smile and kindness make her melt,
this boy whom evokes,
a strange feeling that has been gone for so long.
This boy,
perhaps he can help her.
Perhaps with him she can start over,
Maybe now she can move away form this empty road,
and relieve herself from the pain.
Maybe now she can find her way around these lines,
to the place she has always dreamed of reaching again.
Perhaps it is possible to move on...
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
[good luck ...<3]
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Snowflakes
The temperature outside is dropping,
and the leaves have almost all fallen.
The cold harsh winds of winter,
whip across my face.
The park is quiet and still.
The grass has turned yellow and brittle.
I tuck my face deeper into my scarf.
His scarf.
His soft sweet sent still lingers on it.
I inhale deeply, and close my eyes.
The wind still blowing strongly,
I wrap my arms around myself
to keep warm.
As I open my eyes,
a small white speck lands upon my sleeve.
As I look closer,
I can see a detailed snowflake.
So elegant and fragile,
when help up into the sun light,
it sparkles so brightly.
But it quickly melts away when touched.
Snowflakes are allot like being in love.
It is small and precious,
elegant yet fragile.
It sparkles like a thousand diamonds.
But can quickly melt away.
And just like snowflakes
No two are alike.
Once they leave, they never come back.
So small but when piled up,
create larger mounds.
Very much like love,
feelings can start off small,
but after a while build up into something bigger.
Come spring,
it all melts away,
and seems as though it were never there.
The park still silent, as I sit
upon the bench under pine trees.
The wind blows harder
and I wince in pain,
i bury my face into the scarf and jacket.
It's so cold out side.
The sun begins to set,
and the wind picks up,
I open my eyes and begin to stand,
when a soft deep voice,
whispers "sorry I'm late"
I quickly spin around
and see your face.
Love, much like the snow,
inspiring and breathtaking,
yet fragile and snesitive.
Sometimes it doesn't last,
but sometimes it melts into water,
just to be come snow again next winter...
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
and the leaves have almost all fallen.
The cold harsh winds of winter,
whip across my face.
The park is quiet and still.
The grass has turned yellow and brittle.
I tuck my face deeper into my scarf.
His scarf.
His soft sweet sent still lingers on it.
I inhale deeply, and close my eyes.
The wind still blowing strongly,
I wrap my arms around myself
to keep warm.
As I open my eyes,
a small white speck lands upon my sleeve.
As I look closer,
I can see a detailed snowflake.
So elegant and fragile,
when help up into the sun light,
it sparkles so brightly.
But it quickly melts away when touched.
Snowflakes are allot like being in love.
It is small and precious,
elegant yet fragile.
It sparkles like a thousand diamonds.
But can quickly melt away.
And just like snowflakes
No two are alike.
Once they leave, they never come back.
So small but when piled up,
create larger mounds.
Very much like love,
feelings can start off small,
but after a while build up into something bigger.
Come spring,
it all melts away,
and seems as though it were never there.
The park still silent, as I sit
upon the bench under pine trees.
The wind blows harder
and I wince in pain,
i bury my face into the scarf and jacket.
It's so cold out side.
The sun begins to set,
and the wind picks up,
I open my eyes and begin to stand,
when a soft deep voice,
whispers "sorry I'm late"
I quickly spin around
and see your face.
Love, much like the snow,
inspiring and breathtaking,
yet fragile and snesitive.
Sometimes it doesn't last,
but sometimes it melts into water,
just to be come snow again next winter...
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Abused
Abused by you.
Hit, slapped, kicked and cut,
blood stains on your pillow case.
your blood.
The pain is too much.
you drink it down,
just to help.
Overdose at night.
No one there to tell you not to.
Up and down,
back and forth.
Dig it in deeper.
Watch how it flows, just like silk.
Abuse yourself.
There are blood stains on your pillowcase.
Sleep sleep,
it feels good now.
Stainless steel wrapped in cloth.
hidden in a dark place,
carried everywhere.
Never left alone.
Leave it.
Let go of it, you don't need it.
You don't need it.
Leave it behind,
move forward.
No longer abuse yourself.
Change the pillow case.
You are loved
no matter what you think.
They love you,
I love you.
You have to power you just need the will.
look beyond this darkness.
Leave it alone.
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
Hit, slapped, kicked and cut,
blood stains on your pillow case.
your blood.
The pain is too much.
you drink it down,
just to help.
Overdose at night.
No one there to tell you not to.
Up and down,
back and forth.
Dig it in deeper.
Watch how it flows, just like silk.
Abuse yourself.
There are blood stains on your pillowcase.
Sleep sleep,
it feels good now.
Stainless steel wrapped in cloth.
hidden in a dark place,
carried everywhere.
Never left alone.
Leave it.
Let go of it, you don't need it.
You don't need it.
Leave it behind,
move forward.
No longer abuse yourself.
Change the pillow case.
You are loved
no matter what you think.
They love you,
I love you.
You have to power you just need the will.
look beyond this darkness.
Leave it alone.
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Invisible Walls
Trapped between invisible walls
No way in, no way out.
Stuck in complete solitude.
Each breath could be your last.
Thoughts run ramped,
attempts are made to retrace steps,
of how you got here, and how your going to leave.
Your heart is a prison.
Where you lock away your feelings.
You await the arrival of the one, to free them.
But you don't know if he'll ever come.
Trapped between invisible walls
No way in, no way out.
So you sit,
an wait for the day,
he comes and frees you from
this place you call home...
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
No way in, no way out.
Stuck in complete solitude.
Each breath could be your last.
Thoughts run ramped,
attempts are made to retrace steps,
of how you got here, and how your going to leave.
Your heart is a prison.
Where you lock away your feelings.
You await the arrival of the one, to free them.
But you don't know if he'll ever come.
Trapped between invisible walls
No way in, no way out.
So you sit,
an wait for the day,
he comes and frees you from
this place you call home...
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
Bland and broken,
are the souls of man.They are weak and venerable.
A flawed species we are.For we make far to many a mistake.
this civilization be.
No need for love and passion,when you have war and lust.
What good are kisses and moon lit walks,when death is on your mind.
are the souls who walk this earth.
obscenities and foul phrasesare all our children know.
Narcotics and intercourse,
are the games they play today.they go together just as
catch and tag once did.
catch and tag once did.
Morals and values,
two words never spoken, never practiced.
The meanings long lost and forgotten.
buried with the rights we all once had.
Power and wealth,
that is all you need to live.
The being and health of others shall perish,
for you are the one that matters most.
yet with that mentality,
we are doomed to exist,
in this darkness forever.
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
two words never spoken, never practiced.
The meanings long lost and forgotten.
buried with the rights we all once had.
Power and wealth,
that is all you need to live.
The being and health of others shall perish,
for you are the one that matters most.
yet with that mentality,
we are doomed to exist,
in this darkness forever.
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
Monday, November 3, 2008
Forever
Cover them up.
They belong to you and no one else.
They are your dark secret.
Yours and yours alone.
Alone.
that word brings tears to your eyes.
It hurts to hear it.
you hate it,
but yet you can't escape it.
No.
You can't run from it.
It follows you every where.
It lurks in the shadows of your mind.
It stalks you,
it binds you to the pain.
These days are ripping holes into your soul.
With each passing one you feel your self withering away.
How can you escape this?
How can you find a light in this overwhelming darkness?
Oh how you wish you could just die.
You wish to leave this vile, hurtful place.
You want to run away from here and never come back.
Oh how cruel this world is!
Everything is numb,
You can no longer feel the warmth of the sun, or the beating of your heart.
All you can feel is the cold breeze of winter, and the harsh looks from passersby.
Oh how you long to feel again!
How you yearn for the touch of another,
how you wish to just feel something, anything...
Alas! You have found your cure.
Oh yes, the one thing that helps you.
You know it's wrong, but it feels so good.
It helps you feel,
it calms you down.
It helps to stop the tears.
It satisfies you.
But you see it comes with a price.
Oh yes, and a rather painful one at that.
It may help you, but it hurts others.
Others whom have been there for you,
others who have outstretched their hands to you,
but you couldn't see them.
It can hurt you in many ways,
it can push away the ones most precious to you.
You have a plan though,
you know how to hide it.
you have it all figured out.
Be careful, watch each move you make.
Don't let them see,
don't show them who you truly are.
You know what will happen.
You know what shall follow.
Cover them up.
They belong to you and no one else.
They are your dark secret.
Yours and yours alone.
No one needs to know,
no one can take this away from you,
oh no, this is your secret,
this is your special medicine.
To bad you can't see
what it truly is,
not medicine, but poison,
which will spread and spread until it consumes you,
it may help now, but those marks,
you think they will fade, sure some will,
but they will be there forever.
They'll never leave, but isn't that what you wanted?
At least now you will never be alone,
oh no they'll be there,
always with you, they'll never leave.
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008 you and
They belong to you and no one else.
They are your dark secret.
Yours and yours alone.
Alone.
that word brings tears to your eyes.
It hurts to hear it.
you hate it,
but yet you can't escape it.
No.
You can't run from it.
It follows you every where.
It lurks in the shadows of your mind.
It stalks you,
it binds you to the pain.
These days are ripping holes into your soul.
With each passing one you feel your self withering away.
How can you escape this?
How can you find a light in this overwhelming darkness?
Oh how you wish you could just die.
You wish to leave this vile, hurtful place.
You want to run away from here and never come back.
Oh how cruel this world is!
Everything is numb,
You can no longer feel the warmth of the sun, or the beating of your heart.
All you can feel is the cold breeze of winter, and the harsh looks from passersby.
Oh how you long to feel again!
How you yearn for the touch of another,
how you wish to just feel something, anything...
Alas! You have found your cure.
Oh yes, the one thing that helps you.
You know it's wrong, but it feels so good.
It helps you feel,
it calms you down.
It helps to stop the tears.
It satisfies you.
But you see it comes with a price.
Oh yes, and a rather painful one at that.
It may help you, but it hurts others.
Others whom have been there for you,
others who have outstretched their hands to you,
but you couldn't see them.
It can hurt you in many ways,
it can push away the ones most precious to you.
You have a plan though,
you know how to hide it.
you have it all figured out.
Be careful, watch each move you make.
Don't let them see,
don't show them who you truly are.
You know what will happen.
You know what shall follow.
Cover them up.
They belong to you and no one else.
They are your dark secret.
Yours and yours alone.
No one needs to know,
no one can take this away from you,
oh no, this is your secret,
this is your special medicine.
To bad you can't see
what it truly is,
not medicine, but poison,
which will spread and spread until it consumes you,
it may help now, but those marks,
you think they will fade, sure some will,
but they will be there forever.
They'll never leave, but isn't that what you wanted?
At least now you will never be alone,
oh no they'll be there,
always with you, they'll never leave.
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008 you and
Friday, October 31, 2008
Nostalgic
How did this happen?
How did it get like this?
We were so happy,
we used to laugh and smile,
now we sit in silence and frown.
I still remember out first kiss,
I can picture everything,
it's almost as if
my mind is a photo album.
It was the end of the day, and I saw you at the door,
you smiled and asked if I wanted to hang out for a while.
stunned, the only thing that came out of my mouth was
"SURE!"
we walked behind the school,
and had a snow ball fight.
I lost of course, but only on purpose.
It was getting darker,
and the wind was picking up.
the snow was falling.
You decided we would spin in circles,
I was amazed that you knew it was
one of my favorite things to do.
though I found out later you just decided to do that.
The first time we stopped, you rested you forehead on mine,
My mind was racing, and my heart was pumping so fast,
I couldn't process my thoughts.
we spun again,
yet this time when we stopped,
you did the same thing,
but tilted your head and pressed your lips
on mine.
Do you remember that night?
I do, and I always will...
Now it seems
as though that happened such a long time ago...
it feels like such a distant memory.
As we sit here,
divided,
tears bursting from out eyes,
what is there left for us here?
How do we move on from this cold dark spot.
Perhaps if we close our eyes and
clasp our hands together,
take a deep breath,
and pray for these dark days
to fade away,
and in their absence
let the life back in.
We can overcome this,
if we try.
It is said,
you don't know what you've got until it's gone,
this may not always be right,
but I have fallen victim to this very saying.
Almost losing you,
has cut me deeper and any knife could,
almost losing you has changed me in many ways.
Mostly for the better.
I hope we can move on form here,
I would very much like to.
Just know how much I love you,
just know I am different now,
just know I have changed for the better.
Please believe in my,
believe in us.
I hope you know how much,
I love you.
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
How did it get like this?
We were so happy,
we used to laugh and smile,
now we sit in silence and frown.
I still remember out first kiss,
I can picture everything,
it's almost as if
my mind is a photo album.
It was the end of the day, and I saw you at the door,
you smiled and asked if I wanted to hang out for a while.
stunned, the only thing that came out of my mouth was
"SURE!"
we walked behind the school,
and had a snow ball fight.
I lost of course, but only on purpose.
It was getting darker,
and the wind was picking up.
the snow was falling.
You decided we would spin in circles,
I was amazed that you knew it was
one of my favorite things to do.
though I found out later you just decided to do that.
The first time we stopped, you rested you forehead on mine,
My mind was racing, and my heart was pumping so fast,
I couldn't process my thoughts.
we spun again,
yet this time when we stopped,
you did the same thing,
but tilted your head and pressed your lips
on mine.
Do you remember that night?
I do, and I always will...
Now it seems
as though that happened such a long time ago...
it feels like such a distant memory.
As we sit here,
divided,
tears bursting from out eyes,
what is there left for us here?
How do we move on from this cold dark spot.
Perhaps if we close our eyes and
clasp our hands together,
take a deep breath,
and pray for these dark days
to fade away,
and in their absence
let the life back in.
We can overcome this,
if we try.
It is said,
you don't know what you've got until it's gone,
this may not always be right,
but I have fallen victim to this very saying.
Almost losing you,
has cut me deeper and any knife could,
almost losing you has changed me in many ways.
Mostly for the better.
I hope we can move on form here,
I would very much like to.
Just know how much I love you,
just know I am different now,
just know I have changed for the better.
Please believe in my,
believe in us.
I hope you know how much,
I love you.
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Blood in the Bathroom [Revised]
Blood in the Bathroom [Revised]
A single tear rolls down her face,
her vision is blurred,
she shuts her eyes and opens them quickly
in hopes it will stop the tears so she can see clearly again,
but it doesn't work.
She gives up.
She can feel her knees begin to quiver,
they give out, and she falls backwards.
She lands hard upon the concrete floor,
but she can't feel the pain,
or perhaps she just doesn't care.
She can't control the tears,
they flow down her cheeks,
they follow the creases in her face,
they drip off her chin,
landing on her blouse.
They create little translucent spots.
She wants to scream,
she wants to smash her head into the wall,
she wants to feel something.
anything,
she wants to end the numbness,
that seems to have consumed her.
She only knows one way,
one thing that can help her,
she pulls out the razor blade she had kept in her bag.
she didn't analyze what she was going to do,
she just did.
She shuts her eyes,
the tears still furiously falling.
They won't stop.
They drip into her cuts,
she knows they should sting, but
she can't feel it.
She begins to feel light headed,
the room starts to spin,
everything is a blur,
it looks as though she is trapped in a snow globe,
and someone is shaking it profusely.
Suddenly everything goes black,
she is frozen.
She hears a quiet persistent sound.
She can't decipher what it is.
She tries again,
this time she hears something,
her name, or at least she thinks it's her name.
It comes again.
It must be the angels.
His face flashes through the darkness.
Could it be her love,
could it be the one she loved so much.
why was he here,
was he saying her name?
He's gone, gone for good, he's never coming back
these words repeat over and over in her mind,
it's not him, it can't be him.
She can hear her name still begin called.
She wants to see where it's coming from.
She wants to know who is called out to her.
She wants him,
she craves the feeling of him wrapped around her,
she can smell him,
yet she can do nothing, she can't move,
she wants to run, she wants to find him,
she wants to see him.
She hears her name again,
but it begins to growing softer,
it seems to be fading away,
she wants it to stay,
where is it going?
Then as if she had been hit in the head with a blunt object,
her mind stops and becomes still.
Everything seems to have vanished again.
No sound, no feeling.
Just silence in this dark, dark place.
Yet far off in the distance she can see him,
she can see his soft glowing face.
And she can see a small, crystal clear tear,
roll down his cheek,
and as she starred at his face,
she thought she saw his mouth
form the words good bye
then once again she was engulfed in darkness.
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
A single tear rolls down her face,
her vision is blurred,
she shuts her eyes and opens them quickly
in hopes it will stop the tears so she can see clearly again,
but it doesn't work.
She gives up.
She can feel her knees begin to quiver,
they give out, and she falls backwards.
She lands hard upon the concrete floor,
but she can't feel the pain,
or perhaps she just doesn't care.
She can't control the tears,
they flow down her cheeks,
they follow the creases in her face,
they drip off her chin,
landing on her blouse.
They create little translucent spots.
She wants to scream,
she wants to smash her head into the wall,
she wants to feel something.
anything,
she wants to end the numbness,
that seems to have consumed her.
She only knows one way,
one thing that can help her,
she pulls out the razor blade she had kept in her bag.
she didn't analyze what she was going to do,
she just did.
She shuts her eyes,
the tears still furiously falling.
They won't stop.
They drip into her cuts,
she knows they should sting, but
she can't feel it.
She begins to feel light headed,
the room starts to spin,
everything is a blur,
it looks as though she is trapped in a snow globe,
and someone is shaking it profusely.
Suddenly everything goes black,
she is frozen.
She hears a quiet persistent sound.
She can't decipher what it is.
She tries again,
this time she hears something,
her name, or at least she thinks it's her name.
It comes again.
It must be the angels.
His face flashes through the darkness.
Could it be her love,
could it be the one she loved so much.
why was he here,
was he saying her name?
He's gone, gone for good, he's never coming back
these words repeat over and over in her mind,
it's not him, it can't be him.
She can hear her name still begin called.
She wants to see where it's coming from.
She wants to know who is called out to her.
She wants him,
she craves the feeling of him wrapped around her,
she can smell him,
yet she can do nothing, she can't move,
she wants to run, she wants to find him,
she wants to see him.
She hears her name again,
but it begins to growing softer,
it seems to be fading away,
she wants it to stay,
where is it going?
Then as if she had been hit in the head with a blunt object,
her mind stops and becomes still.
Everything seems to have vanished again.
No sound, no feeling.
Just silence in this dark, dark place.
Yet far off in the distance she can see him,
she can see his soft glowing face.
And she can see a small, crystal clear tear,
roll down his cheek,
and as she starred at his face,
she thought she saw his mouth
form the words good bye
then once again she was engulfed in darkness.
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Blood in the Bathroom
Blood in the Bathroom
A single tear rolls down her face,
her vision is blurred,
she shuts her eyes and opens them quickly
in hopes it will stop the tears so she can see clearly again,
but it doesn't work.
She gives up.
She can feel her knees begin to quiver,
they give out, and she falls backwards.
She lands hard upon the concrete floor,
but she can't feel the pain,
or perhaps she just doesn't care.
She can't control the tears,
they flow down her cheeks,
they follow the creases in her face,
they drip off her chin,
landing on her blouse.
They create little translucent spots.
She wants to scream,
she wants to smash her head into the wall,
she wants to feel something.
anything,
she wants to end the numbness,
that seems to have consumed her.
She only knows one way,
one thing that can help her,
she pulls out the razor blade
she had kept in her bag.
She always made sure to keep it with her.
She never went any where with out it.
She was quite meticulous about putting it back exactly where it was,
and about cleaning it right before she used it.
but this time was different,
this time she didn't care.
This time she didn't analyse what she was going to do, she just did.
She rolls back the sleeve of her blouse,
until it almost touches her shoulder.
The tears are still furiously flowing,
she looks at the blade grasped between her fingers ,
than quickly glances at her arm,
with out another moments hesitation,
she draws the blade across her skin.
It feels cold on her arm,
little crimson drops form
where the blade had kissed the skin.
she watches as the drops multiply and join together,
she does it again,
and again
and again
and again.
Her arm begins to turn red,
she keeps going.
She seems to have gone into a trace,
it feels as though she is watching a movie.
Over and over she lashes out at her arm.
Each cut she makes is different,
some are deeper than others,
some are vertical some are horizontal,
they criss cross all down her arm.
Her tears cease.
A puddle of red has formed on the floor,
she can't see it, she can't see anything,
it feels as though time has stopped.
everything is moving really slowly.
the lights look as though they are getting brighter
and engulfing everything.
The washroom stall begins so move,
it begins so quiver and shake,
yet she still sits there,
slashing her arm to pieces.
As if out of no where a sharp pain
rips across her arm,
the light begins to retreat and the stall becomes still.
She leans back against the wall,
for a moment the she stops the blade,
and gazes at what she thought was her arm,
but it wasn't, it must be someones else's she thinks,
it is limp and disfigured.
It is littered with dozens of wet, red lines.
She follows the stream of blood,
until it dripped into what looked like a sea of red beside her.
She stares at the puddle for quite some time,
she is not sure what to do, or even think.
she draws her eyes back to her arm,
then to the blade in her fingers.
the bathroom door opens.
Startled, she looks up toward the stall door.
She freezes.
She can't move, she doesn't want to.
the toilet flushes, she hears the tap turn on, then off,
then she's alone again.
thoughts begin to run through her mind,
How is she going to clean this up?
How is she going to be able to hide the cuts
when they won't stop bleeding.
Panic begins to strike her.
What if they don't stop bleeding?
What if she bleeds to death?
Then she remembers,
no one cares about her,
I bet no one has noticed I'm gone
she thinks to herself.
Suddenly she remembers the one person in her life
she cared for, the one she pushed away.
The dull ache from her broken heart becomes intensified,
it hurts,
she feels it suffocating her,
He's gone, gone for good, he's never comming back
these words repeat in her mind over and over,
She feels the numbness take hold again,
she takes the razor in her other hand,
her arm seems to have stopped hurting,
she unbuttons her blouse,
and tosses it asside.
she gases at her clear, almost perfect arm.
She brings the blade close to it,
she stops, as if to think about what she is doing,
and if she really wants to do it,
but she shakes her head and begins to draw lines on her arm.
again she watches the blood pool at the surface of the cuts,
she feels it drip down her arm,
she starts to cry again.
She shuts her eyes,
the tears won't stop,
they drip into her cuts,
she knows they should sting,
but she can't feel it.
She begins to feel light headed,
the room starts to spin,
everything is a blur,
it looks as though she is trapped in a snow globe,
and someone is shaking it profusely.
Her motions begin to slow,
she can barley move,
she stops cutting.
She can't move her hand any longer,
the blade falls from her grasp and lands on the floor.
It sounds as though it has fallen miles away.
It echoes as if she were on a cliff,
and had thrown if off the edge.
She opens and closes her eyes,
in an attempt to clear her vision.
It won't work,
she tries over and over,
but nothing changes.
everything sounds far away,
she hears the door open,
but she's not sure if it is the washroom door or just a door in the hall,
she can't differentiate the walls from the floor.
She hears a pounding sound,
but she can't tell what or where it is.
suddenly it gets really bright and there are shadowy figures all around her,
she feels weak,
she topples over into something wet,
she no longer has the energy to keep her eyes open.
Everything goes black.
she is frozen.
She hears a quite persistent sound.
She can't decipher what it is,
over and over it repeats.
Perhaps it's angels calling out for her.
she tries to listen,
it's hard, she can't concentrate.
It repeats still.
She tries again,
this time she hears something,
her name, or at least she thinks it's her name.
it comes again.
It must be the angels,
then his face flashes through the darkness.
Could it be her love,
could it be the one she loved so much,
why was he here,
was was he saying her name,
what would he think when he saw her like this,
he would think her disgusting and stupid,
the way has always been.
Her mind was running wild.
suddenly she feels as though she is floating,
she feels as if she were high up in the air,
floating above the washroom,
travailing higher and higher,
now she must be above the school.
She can hear her name still being called.
She wants to see where it's coming from.
She wants to know who is calling out to her.
She wants him,
she craves the feeling of him wrapped around her,
she can smell him,
yet she can do nothing,
she can't move,
she wants to run, she wants to find him,
she wants to see him.
She hears her name again,
but it seems to be growing softer,
it seems to be fading away,
she wants it to stay,
where is it going?
Then as if she had been hit in the head with a blunt object,
her mind stops and becomes still.
everything seems to have vanished again.
No sound, no feeling.
Just silence in this dark, dark place.
yet far off in the distance she can see him,
she can see his soft glowing face.
and she can see a small, crystal clear tear,
roll down his cheek,
and as she stared at his face,
she thought she saw his mouth
form the words good bye
then once again she was engulfed in darkness.
[ok so umm.. yea long ass story I know... sorry if it bored you.. I will revise it soon but here it is for now! If you have some pointers for me just put them in the tag box! Please and thank you! =}]
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
A single tear rolls down her face,
her vision is blurred,
she shuts her eyes and opens them quickly
in hopes it will stop the tears so she can see clearly again,
but it doesn't work.
She gives up.
She can feel her knees begin to quiver,
they give out, and she falls backwards.
She lands hard upon the concrete floor,
but she can't feel the pain,
or perhaps she just doesn't care.
She can't control the tears,
they flow down her cheeks,
they follow the creases in her face,
they drip off her chin,
landing on her blouse.
They create little translucent spots.
She wants to scream,
she wants to smash her head into the wall,
she wants to feel something.
anything,
she wants to end the numbness,
that seems to have consumed her.
She only knows one way,
one thing that can help her,
she pulls out the razor blade
she had kept in her bag.
She always made sure to keep it with her.
She never went any where with out it.
She was quite meticulous about putting it back exactly where it was,
and about cleaning it right before she used it.
but this time was different,
this time she didn't care.
This time she didn't analyse what she was going to do, she just did.
She rolls back the sleeve of her blouse,
until it almost touches her shoulder.
The tears are still furiously flowing,
she looks at the blade grasped between her fingers ,
than quickly glances at her arm,
with out another moments hesitation,
she draws the blade across her skin.
It feels cold on her arm,
little crimson drops form
where the blade had kissed the skin.
she watches as the drops multiply and join together,
she does it again,
and again
and again
and again.
Her arm begins to turn red,
she keeps going.
She seems to have gone into a trace,
it feels as though she is watching a movie.
Over and over she lashes out at her arm.
Each cut she makes is different,
some are deeper than others,
some are vertical some are horizontal,
they criss cross all down her arm.
Her tears cease.
A puddle of red has formed on the floor,
she can't see it, she can't see anything,
it feels as though time has stopped.
everything is moving really slowly.
the lights look as though they are getting brighter
and engulfing everything.
The washroom stall begins so move,
it begins so quiver and shake,
yet she still sits there,
slashing her arm to pieces.
As if out of no where a sharp pain
rips across her arm,
the light begins to retreat and the stall becomes still.
She leans back against the wall,
for a moment the she stops the blade,
and gazes at what she thought was her arm,
but it wasn't, it must be someones else's she thinks,
it is limp and disfigured.
It is littered with dozens of wet, red lines.
She follows the stream of blood,
until it dripped into what looked like a sea of red beside her.
She stares at the puddle for quite some time,
she is not sure what to do, or even think.
she draws her eyes back to her arm,
then to the blade in her fingers.
the bathroom door opens.
Startled, she looks up toward the stall door.
She freezes.
She can't move, she doesn't want to.
the toilet flushes, she hears the tap turn on, then off,
then she's alone again.
thoughts begin to run through her mind,
How is she going to clean this up?
How is she going to be able to hide the cuts
when they won't stop bleeding.
Panic begins to strike her.
What if they don't stop bleeding?
What if she bleeds to death?
Then she remembers,
no one cares about her,
I bet no one has noticed I'm gone
she thinks to herself.
Suddenly she remembers the one person in her life
she cared for, the one she pushed away.
The dull ache from her broken heart becomes intensified,
it hurts,
she feels it suffocating her,
He's gone, gone for good, he's never comming back
these words repeat in her mind over and over,
She feels the numbness take hold again,
she takes the razor in her other hand,
her arm seems to have stopped hurting,
she unbuttons her blouse,
and tosses it asside.
she gases at her clear, almost perfect arm.
She brings the blade close to it,
she stops, as if to think about what she is doing,
and if she really wants to do it,
but she shakes her head and begins to draw lines on her arm.
again she watches the blood pool at the surface of the cuts,
she feels it drip down her arm,
she starts to cry again.
She shuts her eyes,
the tears won't stop,
they drip into her cuts,
she knows they should sting,
but she can't feel it.
She begins to feel light headed,
the room starts to spin,
everything is a blur,
it looks as though she is trapped in a snow globe,
and someone is shaking it profusely.
Her motions begin to slow,
she can barley move,
she stops cutting.
She can't move her hand any longer,
the blade falls from her grasp and lands on the floor.
It sounds as though it has fallen miles away.
It echoes as if she were on a cliff,
and had thrown if off the edge.
She opens and closes her eyes,
in an attempt to clear her vision.
It won't work,
she tries over and over,
but nothing changes.
everything sounds far away,
she hears the door open,
but she's not sure if it is the washroom door or just a door in the hall,
she can't differentiate the walls from the floor.
She hears a pounding sound,
but she can't tell what or where it is.
suddenly it gets really bright and there are shadowy figures all around her,
she feels weak,
she topples over into something wet,
she no longer has the energy to keep her eyes open.
Everything goes black.
she is frozen.
She hears a quite persistent sound.
She can't decipher what it is,
over and over it repeats.
Perhaps it's angels calling out for her.
she tries to listen,
it's hard, she can't concentrate.
It repeats still.
She tries again,
this time she hears something,
her name, or at least she thinks it's her name.
it comes again.
It must be the angels,
then his face flashes through the darkness.
Could it be her love,
could it be the one she loved so much,
why was he here,
was was he saying her name,
what would he think when he saw her like this,
he would think her disgusting and stupid,
the way has always been.
Her mind was running wild.
suddenly she feels as though she is floating,
she feels as if she were high up in the air,
floating above the washroom,
travailing higher and higher,
now she must be above the school.
She can hear her name still being called.
She wants to see where it's coming from.
She wants to know who is calling out to her.
She wants him,
she craves the feeling of him wrapped around her,
she can smell him,
yet she can do nothing,
she can't move,
she wants to run, she wants to find him,
she wants to see him.
She hears her name again,
but it seems to be growing softer,
it seems to be fading away,
she wants it to stay,
where is it going?
Then as if she had been hit in the head with a blunt object,
her mind stops and becomes still.
everything seems to have vanished again.
No sound, no feeling.
Just silence in this dark, dark place.
yet far off in the distance she can see him,
she can see his soft glowing face.
and she can see a small, crystal clear tear,
roll down his cheek,
and as she stared at his face,
she thought she saw his mouth
form the words good bye
then once again she was engulfed in darkness.
[ok so umm.. yea long ass story I know... sorry if it bored you.. I will revise it soon but here it is for now! If you have some pointers for me just put them in the tag box! Please and thank you! =}]
Morgan.E.Doowrah
©2008
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