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Jess May 10
Too scared
Too meek
Too quiet to speak

Pushed to the edge

When the meek
Start to speak

Speak up

Don't Speak
Jess May 10
Feel nothing                                            
                                          Say nothing
Be  nothing


I've tried

                                               Feel something
Say something                                          

Be something

I've won

I
have                
                 become

n o n e
I can't feel things fully anymore. I'm just so tired.
Jess May 6
These thoughts
so dark
These visions
so bright
One cannot exist
without the other in line
Like the stars that shine
through empty space
Don't  you  see  it?

                         The
D u a l i t y
                 Of
L i f e

The                            
B a l a n c e
                 Of
L i f e

We hold the key
To destroy                                            
                                          To create

But to wield
such power

Who are we and
Who are

You
And that is the Journey of life. To find who we are, or rather, to remember who we are.
The stars shine in a vast nothingness.
the heat creates light and form, and with the right mix...eventually you get...life.
If there is no meaning, then what's the point?
Randomness breeds Nihilism.
And that breeds despair along with all of it's cousins,
creating a chain reaction.
As within, so Without. As above, So below.

We are responsible for what we create, weather we know it or not.

Artists create through pain, but also create through joy and love. We have intense emotions. They are both a gift and a curse.
We have the ability to transmute.
Everyone does in some way.
I think therefore I am. I speak, therefore I create.
What you think creates the world you live in. What you speak forms it into existence.
How we use it is up to us.
There is a blessing in every curse
and a curse in every blessing.
Otherwise, how would we know anything without it's opposite?

*If I don't believe in something beautiful than I will fall into myself into utter destruction and ruin and fall into the darkest depths my thoughts can fathom.
Seeing the beauty in the smallest of things keeps me...alive. It keeps me here it keeps me from falling, it keeps me from making myself disappear. Sometimes I want to die. Other times I feel nothing.
But what pulls me out of that is seeing the beauty of things,
the balance, the compassion.
Sometimes I need to fall really hard again to see it once again.
Because every so often, i need to be reminded of just how beautiful things are,
but to do that I need to pull myself through the darkest depths of myself and face the hell i created for myself to remember what the light once looked like.
Such is life. In all things.
But that's just what I think.
Jess Oct 2016
Push, pull


Take me away
I cannot stay


All I can say is that
I loved you anyway
Jess May 2016
Could you blame me
For my mistrust

Could you blame me
For every flinch held back

My muscles remember

Your hand,  their hands,  his hand

He wasn't the first one

To show me     l o v e  ?
                    
F  E  A  R

He was just the worst one

Could you blame me

For always looking down
Always leaning away
Always shutting down
Every conversation

Because I'm afraid
Of where it will inevitably lead

Could you blame me
I've been

Used
Abused
Bruised
Choked
Hit and thrown

Could you blame me
I've been

Taught to be less than
Taught to be useful to others
Taught to be last

Taught that I am nothing

Shown I am nothing

So could you blame me
For being so afraid

Could you blame me*

For not trusting you?
Jess Apr 2016
It's such a lovely thought
To  have once had
Everything you've caught
In your palms

Crumble away

As sand does

On a windy shore


Through the spaces
From your fingers

Cascading back
Into  the tide
Jess Feb 2016
He told me
I was beautiful



O n c e



He told me
I was ugly


Countless times

In every way



His words always sharp
Laughing like a hyena
Circling a wounded prey


His words always cold
Laced with the venom of a snake
Slowly cutting every chord


His words always hollow


Resonating
With an empty soul
Lost in its darkest thoughts
That he had proven right


But then
He would tell me that

I was beautiful



O n c e







Again
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