The Girl Who Carried The Devil

She walked in silence,
walked with rage,
she carried an angel in her heart,
and a demon in her head.
God held her hand,
and Lucifer led the way.
He was her lover,
and her fate,
he whispered in her ear,
his silver tongue teasing.
She hoped on every word,
every syllable.
As she reached the black gate,
Lucifer kissed her,
and God looked away.

Look

Your gaze is haunting,
and the way your eyes touch mine,
it scares me to death.

Forget Me

Forget me.
I guess that’s what you should’ve done,
I am,
after all,
completely worthless to you.
Or some hateful bitch.
Somedays you make me feel like I can’t do anything right.
Today was one of those days,
and even now I’m trying not to cry,
but it’s no use,
because I know when I lay my head on that pillow that I’ll shed a tear because of you,
and you know what?
I don’t want to.
You hurt me and you don’t even know it,
if you do you sure as hell don’t care.
So just forget about me,
I’ll disappear like I’ve always done,
and you won’t miss me,
because you don’t care.

My favorite quote ever

Change *Sunday Scribblings 'Shine'*

I used to be afraid of myself,
of what I could do.
I trapped myself in helplessness,
in self-hatred.
I never knew that I could be so much more,
more than anyone could ever give me credit for,
that I could do what they were afraid to.
Then someone shined a light on me,
showing me that my flaws are my beauty,
my scars were what made me strong,
and I believed it.
I'm not afraid.
Now I walk into the light without fear,
without hesitation,
without hating myself.

Rest

Hello readers! I've decided to take a break from my writing for a bit because well, it's gotten harder to write and what I do write is disjointed and not very rythmic at all. Maybe I'll write next week, I'm not sure yet.

Lucyfaah

So this blog and my tumblr account have the same number of followers.... Iiiiinteresting

Kill the Messenger *Sunday Scribblings*

A disheartening message given,
a thing that sets your hope on fire.
The lips of the carrier bleed with despondancy,
'the news is not good,'
she warned you,
but you would not listen.
Now as the last ashes of your long held faith float away,
and you turn on the one dispatched to tell you,
tell me:
Would you kill the messenger?

Nearly *Sunday Scribblings*

I came to you 'as is',
nearly dead.
You nursed me,
you loved me,
showed me that almost dieing wasn't the end.
Now I sit in this empty room,
waiting for you,
thinking of your promises.
Did you break them,
or just nearly keep them?

Visual

When I think of my writing style I see a red silk scarf floating down onto the pale arm of a woman in a dark moonlit room on a summer night. Yes, I know I have a strange imagination... ;)