Sta.sh
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Painting ThunderstormsI will remember you in flowers, dead and never given.Painting Thunderstorms by *Shannon-Sweeney
We are broken promises and shattered glass.
In your traitorous arms,
I wish I'd never closed my eyes,
You are like all good headaches
in that, you will fade away,
In painkillers and flowers on a grave.
Never fading bruises.Dans les flammes j’ai souffert. (Within the flames, I’ve suffered.)Never fading bruises. by *PuzzledHeartBox
Mon identité fortement oubliée. (My identity heavily forgotten.)
Je ne suis plus qui j’étais. (I’m no longer, who I used to be.)
I’ll remember it, as if yesterday.
They can’t hear me, they never could
I’m a faded memory.
Et dans les flammes - j’endure encore. (And within the flames, I still endure.)
J’avais rêvé d’être mort. (I dreamt of being dead.)
J’avais fortement tort. (I was very wrong.)
Against all odds, I’ll keep on going.
Because I’m strong.
Because.. they’re wrong.
But Please Refrain From Stalking Me 
Painting ThunderstormsI will remember you in flowers, dead and never given.
We are broken promises and shattered glass.
In your traitorous arms,
I wish I'd never closed my eyes,
You are like all good headaches
in that, you will fade away,
In painkillers and flowers on a grave.
Never fading bruises.Dans les flammes j’ai souffert. (Within the flames, I’ve suffered.)
Mon identité fortement oubliée. (My identity heavily forgotten.)
Je ne suis plus qui j’étais. (I’m no longer, who I used to be.)
I’ll remember it, as if yesterday.
They can’t hear me, they never could
I’m a faded memory.
Et dans les flammes - j’endure encore. (And within the flames, I still endure.)
J’avais rêvé d’être mort. (I dreamt of being dead.)
J’avais fortement tort. (I was very wrong.)
Against all odds, I’ll keep on going.
Because I’m strong.
Because.. they’re wrong.
CanvasA faded force of habit
A sin without a name
A bleak and lifeless moment
Surrender without shame
She paints a pretty picture
A metallic, crimson twist
Her paintbrush is her razor,
the open canvas is her wrist
She bleeds until she's happy,
wont let you see her cry,
hides inside herself for hours
letting pain just pass her by
Poison spinning down the drain
diluting to just memory
Wishing for the end of this
sadistic, self-loathing penury
it's much appreciated.
