#mild editing

[quiet-imps]

Day 1

roses, crystals, anger

[this-is-not-a-slow-burn]

[jm-photo]

[katiesmiserableatbest]

Shattered flowers haunt her soul.

And just like when I was eleven, the flowers withering with fake apologies slipped from my fingertips and shattered on the ground. While I breathed heavily to gather the remains and the sweet sharp edge sliced and scarred my finger print forever.  The shocking red that filled my eyes for the first time in so many empty sunsets and frightening full moons.. A vibrant sea of colors that reminded me the world is not only black and white.  It is red.. Red with blood and blue glimpses of our veins as they pump full of life.  It is not all Sorrow and sadness, death and depression. Hatred and hopelessness.  There’s another part to this twisted tale, however only the lucky get to see it.  Those special ones with sunshine in there eyes before bed.  Whose words are not defined by diagnoses, mad is an emotion not a state of mind.  Those crazy happy people… Who are far to good for my kind.  I will always get what comes back around, razor scars and a hole in the ground.

A forever reminding fact that we do this to ourselves, we fill our own minds with that shocking color. The scarlet rainbow reminder we force down our throats from our mind telling us that we belong is this underground club of misfits and fuck ups. Deeper and deeper staining marks, leaving underlining stories on the canvas god has given us,  just like the vase when I was eleven… This life an accident I took farther then I possibly imagined when I kept the pieces of the pretty shattered flowers..