Crimson Porcelain Doll.

Porcelain doll with your smashed up face,

dried crimson blood covers the lace

of your torn up dress,

oh what a mess.

Heaving sobs and salt filled tears,

mangled eyes and make-up smeared.

Take heed my dear and rest,

and ponder now upon this mess.

Your shoes are gone, your feet are bare,

no one stops no one stares.

No sight here, to impress,

No one cares, about your mess.

Rain falls and soaks you through

washes away the porcelain doll, you once knew.

Now stand up tall and try your best,

You can rise from this bloody mess!

Desire of a broken soul.

If I could put into words,
What it is that I need,
Then I imagine, that
It would read,
like this…
I want sex without feeling,
Touching or freeing,
I want abandoned lust,
that’s full of rush,
And naked blush.
Not a single word,
No tender kiss,
I’m not after the things that I miss,
No searching my eyes,
for a glimpse of the soul,
All you will find is ice,
and some fucked up goals.
I am the queen of my own
Destructive path,
creator of the veil,
a battlefield scarf.

The pheonix rising from the ashes.

So much pain, so many lies,
The brave girl cries.
So many dreams, stolen away, promised for some other day. The deep penetrating, punishment of silence, of angry words, so much doubt put inside my head, that should never have been said. But now, now as i learn to fly, you question why, why i no longer fight, why i stay out of sight. I am the pheonix rising from the ashes, i am the weed that blooms in the harshest places, i am me, and i shall break free.