Genuine beauty is always quite alarming.

—Donna Tart, The Secret History

We decide ourselves that we don’t deserve the opportunities in front of us.

We sabotage our own future with unkind words in the mirror, leaving our minds open for

The imposter that overshadows that spark within us.

We are creators of the negative universe that gravitates around us.

But she;

But she herself is poetry.

You hold my hand to keep me grounded Keeping me safe from myself I don’t want to disappear I can hear my heart beat as loud as thunder But I still feel you Keeping me from floating away I focus on your touch Leading me back to myself I close my eyes and breath again safely returning to your side Once more keeping the monster locked inside

Swallowing up our pain

Leaving only darkness

No more sadness, no more anger, no more fear

Destruction will be all we know

Making this our eternal existence

Wander dark, candle lit, stone walls at midnight.

Spend my days in a beautiful garden decorated with white peonies, hidden from the world by large bushes and ivy covered trees.

Immerse myself in a grand library, full of time collected books, daydreaming while listening to smooth and mellow classical music.

Dress in black, flowing gowns that wave in the wind as I run down spiral stairs leading to dark rooms in the search of my next ghost story.

Is that too much to ask for?

I can hear a mellow and silky cello accompanied by a sweet and dark piano As dance my very last dance alone I feel the slow footsteps of death come closer its cloak dragging behind with a somber sash holding the candle of my life in its cold hands its puckered lips awaiting my last b

it joins me in center stage griping my hands like deadly vine my time is running out but all i want to do is dance Agony never makes its final appearance Relief takes its place My final moments crowned by the most blissful symphony A tribute to my evanescence life