September 12, 2014


My soul is a meadow at sixes and sevens.
I gave you flowers and I gave you weeds; you accepted them, but they never once seemed to be of pleasant things to you.
Inconvenience. Thorn in your side. The bane of your life.

I hoped you to be my sun.
I awaited you to radiate through me, I thought you would be the one to help me bloom.
Wide of the mark. You make me want to wither away.

In times of darkness you’re there, but you are far away from me.
You are the moon. You see my soul and you hide.
If you’re not truly here, the stars don’t even matter.

written a few months back // ムーンチャイルド

September 11, 2014


I wish my skin was like fire. So those people who knew how frail I was and foolishly proceeded to take advantage of me, thinking they were allowed to touch me, who made me so petrified that all I could do was tremble in fear, those people, they would have third degree burns on their hands for the whole world to see and they would constantly be reminded of what they’ve done.

wrote this a year ago // My Hatred Burns