Why me?
Why me?
I don’t deserve something so beautiful.
I don’t.
So why am I not waking up from this dream?
What can he see in me, that even I can’t find?
The way he speaks to me,
the way he looks at me,
the way he touches me.
It’s like, he’s blind to all the flaws.
He deserves someone so much better.
So much better.
I don’t know what he sees in me,
I don’t know why he’s still there, waiting.
I don’t understand,
but I do love him;
more than life itself.
I have to get out of this place.
They’re driving me to the point of insanity.
They really don’t understand how hard it is to make things work.
I try, despite having so much crap to get through and they decide to ignore all of it.
“Oh we won Buzz@Canteen, Whoohoo!”
I remember half of them couldn’t say Buzz@Canteen without groaning and moaning and whining, stamping their feet, pulling faces.
Half of the never make an effort unless the get something out of it.
The other half just don’t like making any form of effort at all.
I’m sick of it.
The constant melodramatic lethargy of people.
The synchronised, programmed, worker drone attitude that surrounds me.
The human race has become pathetic.
No one understands what it means to do something, for the sake of doing it.
Everyone is greedy for a reward, a prize.
“Pfft look at that performance, it’s so lame.”
Could you do better?
I don’t think so.
So shut your yaps and appreciate the effort they made.
Yeah you can go ahead and gossip amongst yourselves.
“Jeez, she’s such a b*tch.”
But I have my reasons.
And the only reason you’re pissed at me is because you know what I say is true.
No matter how much you hate me for it, I am never deleting this post.
This is the truth about our crap society, and I’m not going to cover it up just cause a few people throw a hissy fit.
I know you hate me already anyway.
If it weren’t for a few select people, I’d have given up on the human race.
But thankfully there are those with redeeming qualities.
Those who keep me from losing my mind.
sigh.
I’m ending off here before I get even more distressed.
I miss you melamin.
you made this easier to handle.
i miss his eyes.
i miss those beautiful hazel-green eyes.
the ones that looked at me with such tenderness.
the ones that broke my heart when they cried.
i miss his lips.
the way they curled into one of his goofy smiles
[[the only smiles that could make me melt inside]]
the way they pressed themselves to my forehead in one of the sweetest gestures i’ve known.
the way they smoothed over my own in the softest of kisses, always gentle.
i miss his scent.
the way he smells like cherry bubblegum and strawberries in the morning.
[[and the face he makes when i tell him he smells like cherry bubblegum and strawberries]]
the way he smells slightly like cigarettes in the late afternoon
[[even though he's trying to stop smoking]]
the way he smells in the evening, just the right amount of sweet musk to send me reeling into a sleepless night.
i miss the way his breath tastes like coffee when he’s close.
i miss the way his arms wrap around me, like a shield, making me feel safe, protected.
i miss the way his body feels when he holds me tight, the way his chest rises and falls with each breath he draws.
i miss his touch, and the way it made me feel;
like i mattered.
yeah, i’m alive. and lovesick. and missing him so goddamnmuch. it’s so hard being so far away. i miss his lips and his touch. i miss the way he looks at me when i’m talking. i miss the glances we steal at each other when my mom’s around. why does everything in life have to be so complicated? my birthday is next week. and he won’t be here. i don’t think anyone’ll remember. a lot of people forgot last year. just another misery i have to get through. i just want his arms around me again. he makes me feel so beautiful. so safe. he is in my every thought, my every breath. it may be naive to think like this, but it just feels so right. i’ve never felt like this before, and i want to keep this going as long as i can. i just wish it would be easier.
xoxo
scaramouche
I am just so tired of the world right now. The government hushing up everything. People in the Ministry of Education, thinking that they can pass judgement on people. Who gave them the right to do what they do now? I think it’s complete bullshit that I have to spend several years working my ass off, to get pieces of paper that’ll tell me whether I’m smart or not. Let me tell you, I know that I’m smart. I know that EVERYONE who was born, with a brain, and thinking capabilities, has the potential to develop themselves.
Maybe not everyone is a rocket scientist. But there are artists. Dreamers. Creators. Logical geniuses. Whatever. If we were given the chance, to study for what we want to actually do and be when we start working, we’d be able to concentrate, put forward our best efforts, and eventually get where we want to. I believe the segregation, discrimination and rigid formula of the education system, is the stupidest thing mankind has ever reinforced. Along with the fat pompous government.
If kids ruled the world, it’d be a better place. We’re not corrupt, and we see past faces and skin tone and religions and strange accents. We know the world is dying, we see what everyone tries to ignore. I’d overthrow the bloody government myself if I had
In the tender soil the seed sleeps,
till the silver trumpets,
trickle down in a wake up call.
Slowly, the shield splits,
and the green cascades forth,
hesitantly into the light,
while deep below, tendrils seek security.
Cautiously, the leaves spread themselves,
stretching upwards towards the sun,
starving for invisible warmth.
Cruel laughter cuts the air,
as bitter hands tear at the stalk,
ignoring the silent screams.
Trampled and faded,
the plant still bare of blossoms,
save a single, unopened bud.
As the heavy footsteps fade away,
the corpse begins to wither.
While deep below,
the hidden roots seek comfort,
in the darkness.
White.
Like a fire it flares,
Consuming, Swallowing.
The line jumps,
an attempt to avoid,
the scorching heat.
The alarms go off,
beating erratically.
Beep;
a warning,
Beep.
The dark returns,
sweet saviour,
dousing the fires,
healing all wounds.
Silence,
the black is welcomed.
Somewhere outside,
the flat green mourns.
Very metaphorical 
See if you can understand it.
la bellezza nella differenza,,
la magnifisenza nella morte,,
the beauty in difference,,
the magnificence in death,,
…the hallower
the dove,
the reincarnation of purity,
white feathered down,
soft as laundered sheets.
silent coos,
entrancing its audience,
held spellbound,
by its gaze.
purposefully,
ensnaring their breath,
trapping the senses,
failing their limbs.
quietly,
the draw nearer,
closer and closer,
their hearts stilling.
inching,
swiftly, silently,
towards the bird,
their spines chilling.
it takes off,
every flap of its wings,
bringing forth a new memory,
while somewhere below,
the church bells toll.
their elegy resounds.
Another metaphorical one. This one was a collaboration between me and Sharanya, la mia confidente numera un ed il mio amico buono. We decided that we wanted to destroy the international symbol of peace. So yes. We are geniuses in the making, I believe. Again, if you don’t get it “you aren’t deep enough for this kind of shit”.
every waking moment,,
my laboured breathing stops,,
while every fleeting second,,
I contemplate…
…the death of the clock
the soft ticking,
time trapped,
beneath the glass face.
dull numbers,
printed on stark white,
uniform, stiff.
the steady rhythm,
the hollow pounding,
echoing emptily,
in the false silence.
faster, faster,
the gears are turning,
twisting, shifting.
quicker now,
spiderwebs etched,
into the glass.
fragile cracks,
spreading swiftly.
the hands spinning,
no restraints,
whirling freely,
round melting numbers.
the glass splits open,
showering the floor,
with clear shrapnel.
the clock is left,
battered and bruised,
the structure gone,
and yet,
more beautiful than ever.
Written spontaneously during a slack session during PE. Very metaphorical. Aaaand, if you don’t understand it, “you’re not deep enough for this kind of shit.”
xoxo
scaramouche
