Angst-Ridden Souls

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Pain is Art
My scars tell a story,
My blood sings a song.
My skin is the canvas,
My life is painted on.
These cuts hold the secrets,
That I don’t wanna tell.
This razor marks the pain,
That I hide inside so well.

Self mutilation some called it,
Others self harm,
But how could it be mutilation,
When it was so beautiful,
So perfect.
And how could it be harmful,
When it was so freeing.
Feel the bliss of escape,
When the darkness is so overwhelming.

Bring the knife,
Hand quivering,
Cut,
Over and over,
Until the panic slowly edges away.
No one notices the angry red gashes and white scars,
No one cares.

The quickest and easiest way to move forward,
From the pain,
The sadness,
And the intense panic.
Already suffering,
Without the release,
Feeling the comfort of the cool metal.
Overwhelmed by the reassurance the object seems to give.

Each scar has a meaning,
A reason for being there,
But how did it come to this?
No one knew.
How had it come to this?

What ever happened to my misplaced angst.
My self deprecating woes.
Expressed on paper.
Expressed on the screen.
Whatever happened to you?

Did our community die so soon after it was birthed from are blackened minds?

Felicitations! You're goth Barbie! ...
Unfortunately we didn't have a very
goth-looking Barbie, so you get this nice
jungle scene instead. Isn't that wonderful?
^^; You're probably just angry at something, or
maybe you really are a goth, to which I reply
'more power to you!' Goths are shibby, even if
they are all broody all the time.


Which slightly offensive random Barbie stereotype are you?
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ah, your abundance leaves me in question.

and so i wave you away because your beauty has left only contempt.


your complications are difficult.

and you suck for that.

All copyright, me, xxcaedmonxx

Once
I once fell in love
Once
I say once because i never fell out
Beaten down again
Abused once more by her
I was still there
Abandoned I remained
Why?
A kiss we once had thats now only a memory
Dreams of you haunting my sleep
Misplaced hope for a future
Scars and tears
Heartache and fears
A life held captive by you

Untitled
walking through like alone
an empty existence
defined by my conquests
When happiness would have come
From lives I've never touched
And Journies I should have skipped
A fact I shoould have known

Commencement
We gather today, with the disenchantment of youth
To here commence under the clouds a lost congregation.
To some I am a student, a life long title I confess.
To some I am a dreamer, the lost one among us.
But throughout my education, my time of regurgitation, I have grown,
changed for the other.
And now listen closely, heed my words,
We alone hold the match to guide us;
To shake off the lies, to determine a truth,
Down a path that lies open before us
And fail or succeed it will burn out.
But what memories will we leave behind?

Begotten from fearlesparanoia, and as she said, a 12 year old wrote this.

Wilted Rose ( Very Sad Story)

Angie was a 12 year old wonder. She was always getting good grades and main parts in her play. Her parents were extremly proud of her and bragged to their friends. But Angie only did this for her parents. She had no friends and even her teachers thought she was annoying by answering every question asked. Everyday she came home crying. Her parents, so full of themselves, didn't notice her daily afternoon bawling. Sitting in her room one day, Angie started to think about committing suicide. She had never thought about killing herself before. She had over heard her classmates talking about a man who took his own life. But Angie had never really thought about it well. She sat there thinking about taking her own life and just starting a new life. She had always believed that you could have another chance at living. Now that she was older, things started to become more and more realistic.Finally it was time to go to bed. The next day at school people were coming up to her asking her what was wrong. Even her enemys were afraid something was going on. She didn't raise her hand in class. She didn't eat her favorite sandwich, peanut butter and jelly. This went on for a week. Her grades dropped. Her parents were mad. Instead of bragging to their friends, their friends were bragging to them about their children getting high grades. Her teacher told everyone to write a report on something interesting they have heard on the news. Angie handed her assignment a week early so it was read outloud. She wrote about committing suicide by stuffing rags in cracks in the car and killing yourself with carbon dioxide. To conclude her essay she told the class she wonders what it feels like and hopes to try it one day. She handed out rags that she called her "own Death Rags". This scared everyone. Her parents got a call from the princibal later that day telling them about the essay on death. Her parents were furious. Their perfect little daughter was turning into a nightmare. They couldn't stand the humiliation. That night they beckoned her into their room. Her father took a club and beat her to death. Her mother drove her to a nearby park. Then they called the police saying their little girl was missing. Five days later her brutely beaten body was found. The murderer was never found. But you know who it is don't you.

Melissa Buckman
1999

How did this community die so quickly?

Oh, yea. That's right. It's us we're talking about here.

BOOYAH, mudafucka. None of this blue shit.


Your Heart is Black


What Color is Your Heart?
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That's how it's done.

Welcome to the eternal midnight;
sunshine never splashes accross your face,
warm breezes never ruffle your hair,
and you never wake up from the nightmares.
There are no birds singing in the bare tree limbs;
only the skeletons escaping your closet,
your worst fears sneaking up behind you,
and you've dragged yourself to a dead end.