aidrielle

listen, i’m a flock of crows i’m the great symbol of death, all dark and brooding with my wings blocking the sunlight my songs are never pretty and i’m clever as death i mean only moonlight can reveal me the wolves are my servants here see, i’ve always craved for the glint of gold and silver always wanted everything that i am not my hunger burned inside me like Greek fire it tore me up like a hurricane, see my eyes are madness, sweetheart (i’m the symbol of sinners) this hole of a heart yearns to beat, but my blood is poison in my veins, my dear i can’t help but want refuge in light i’m a thief, yes,

no one ever talks about us who had to grew up too fast with the world around dissolving into chaos and their screams ringing like the howls of wolf packs in our premature ears we were prey to their expectations and our souls stood on tiptoe inside our bodies just to reach our heads  and we looked older than we were physically, yes, but more than that, too and we were sent out of the house just so we could find refuge in the noise away from the fighting and our blood grew ravenous inside our veins but we’ve got an arsenal of memories inside us, waiting to burst and our scars are cold in the heat of our heartbeats, but we learned to tuck

i. she sleeps like the dead, because (she is, she is) the stars sleep all day, and she is in sync with the moon ii. they say she should drown her demons but they are the ones who taught her to swim iii. she runs with the wolves (the ravens keep watch) she has no choice but to howl (blood isn’t easy to wash out) iv. they say the ocean is the earth’s cradle, but the only thing it did to her was mimic her rising heartbeat v. the ghost of sleep shall settle over her eyes, but it will only be an apparition (like life, like death, like her, like her)

the thing is i know what hunger tastes like my stomach is a brick wall waiting to crumble (just watch as these walls my mother built for me collapse) sometimes my ribs make guest appearances in my clothes in the mirror i am a disproportionate monster sometimes i catch myself raising my pinkie while eating trash and drinking poison sometimes it seems like i’ve been born for a life, any life, other than this one when i reach over my spine is practically shaking i can feel my body giving up under my fingers (i will it not to, but, even the greatest monuments collapse) sometimes i am a statue and my bones are marble granite gold silver but

when you vomit hard enough it starts tasting like candy like maybe if i close my eyes hard enough i will be transported back to my childhood where all i ever was was a child dreaming instead of the thing that i am now holding on to the bathroom walls for dear life (oh god oh god i hope no one hears this oh) in some mornings my mouth pukes but nothing comes out it was as if my body was willing itself to get rid of the sickness after vomiting i usually smile i wipe my mouth and i smile and when i look into the mirror i tell myself it looks as if nothing has changed when everything has

the skeleton in my body is worth more than the sum of all my heartache i am more than all this sadness i have not been fair to myself yes, with my sadness turning me into a monster it was hard to cope but— i can be a sun ray, too a flock of birds, a river, a meadow maybe not something beautiful but a beautiful something, at least and— i’ve killed myself a million times over but i’m alive i’m breathing i survived and the road ahead scares me with its mountains and chasms and oceans but i’ve survived this long and i know i still have air in my lungs and hope in my heart i can do this, i can do this

There is always a strong sense of gravity between them. Their whole souls are juxtapositions of one another, playing cat-and-mouse with destiny as if they were the ones who started it in the first place. We are the product of this never-ending dance with fate. The sun is not as vast as we perceive her to be. She is fire, and she is light, but she is also destruction; each trickle of her tears form volcanoes on planets we have never even heard about. Her eyes are embedded with all the colors of the spectrum, and she is the very epitome of beauty but we cannot see behind the blazing hot fevers she brings upon our world. See, her bodice is an e

the sky turns to ash between my fingers (the ghosts say hello) monsters rise from my nightmares i can’t help but to think: this is g l o r i o u s something the bards will someday sing about, i’m sure my blood does somersaults within my veins i am giddy with excitement for my own death pomegranate seeds sprout from my lips, it’s persephone’s reawakening, see (she is born again in me) but—this is not rebirth, no this is a crucifixion

Don’t you see? She would tear volcanoes apart just to get to you Your name becomes her heartbeat It pounds in her ears like a titan’s footsteps (Eren. Eren. Eren.) Don’t you see? She’d sooner let her blood water the earth than let go of you To her you are the first star This burning beacon in the middle of chaos To her you are a combustion Something burning and beautiful All the pain in the world will never compare To the pain she will feel If she loses you You’ve got fire in your veins Burning everyone you touch, but She would not hesitate to shield you from this world’s madness You are all that she has

Step one: immediately zip up your mouth whenever cries of protest threaten to break free you must be silent you must be mum you must be invisible Step two: be sure to put your physical appearance above everything else since in today’s society it is the only way a woman can ever be considered valuable Step three: mold your suffering into something the media will find beautiful be sure to explain that the redness in your lips is not blood from biting down on your words but actually just designer lipstick and the darkness under your eyes is not actually the fruit of crying all night long but is actually just some leftover mascara Step f