I wish I died....

Sometimes I wish so much to die, people don't know I exist people don't estimate me & I don't have much nice attitude. There's many things in the world I still don't understand, I wish so much todie because I know no one will notice... I laugh so much when they all say "my dear, your so beautiful.." but do they think I buy that shit? Well how can I believe if my self-estime is all the way down to hell. I wish to die, I guess It's a deal; God told satin all about it & they both agreed. Now I have the knife again, just like last night; I pass it once again my shoulder blade, it starts bleeding again. Now I feel no pain, I've done this since junior high; I pass to my wrist the placed I haven't passed in years. I slice my arm many times, sometimes deeper as it seems; the blood starts running to my hand it is so red It feels so cold, it feels so sweet,now I feel weak; I tumble down to just black out....

Made by me...the unwanted girl

Idiota...una completa idiota

Nursing Old Wounds
Are you ready for the snow to fall?
There must be more to love than this,
the long-term torture, short-term bliss
But am I ready for the snow to fall?
And now that we are long apart,
and still we nurse our broken hearts,
our conversations stilted, stark-
(the scars of love have left their mark-
[or have we ever loved at all?])
Are we ready for the snow to fall?

Everything is an End
Come moonbathe with me, my pale memory-
-touch skin to frigid stone.
Hush-- let the raindrops intone the lullaby.
Sink back down, far from harm;
subside and gaze into the cavernous sky
caught-- in my automatic arms.

When you watched the bloody sky
you avoided the look in my eyes.
The moon was not for you:
deep in the summer's decay,
you preferred the gaudy
death throes of the day--
but when the shadow fingers twined
like psychedelic vines
up the flat grantie,
you had to face me.
The end is near.

Come sing with me, my pale memory--
swim that stale symphony.
By choice, you are so shallow as a whole,
that as you founder in the void,
you won't understand what I stole.

If there is a god,
he hates me to weave this
pinpricked belveteen sky;
as though they'll never see you again,
there are fears in my eyes;
for if your sunset flees my love,
he has forsaken us.
His sun is dead;I
killed him with my satin touch
,stain tainted his setting.
We haven't the strengthto ignite the blackness,
or dissolve in vitriol.We hope, but in this dark,
there is no light
to redeem ourselves-- in the end,
there is no meaning to life.

You let me fly awhile;
I'm but a man-child.
That cold fatemonger,
stripped of tactful excuses,
whoring sex's uses and abuses,
let me soar awhile;
I'm but a man-child,
smoking out the window
,tapping ashes in the night,
in the nieghbor's house a white light--
through a red curtain;
Everything is an end.