Half-Dead Beauty

Death is not beautiful
when you’re actually dead
But barely living
in half-dead trees,
half-dried roses,
and deathly thin models
it’s often alluring.
How ironic that
fallen leaves,
broken thorns,
and ruined bodies
are considered beauty
but death is only pretty
if you’re barely living.



The blades in my stomach

are making me sick

cutting my throat

my tongue is slick

with thick red slurs

creating a world from blurred lines

through timed lies

Got a noose tied

but it’s too loose

like the screws in my head

hanging from a few threads

lay me down in a wooden bed

because as alive as I seem, I’m already dead


Didn’t you hear what I said?

I told you, I’m already dead. 

God, why do I feel so dead?


You’re not dead

you’ve just been fed

a lie or ten 

I told you then

I’d see through the end 

and I’m not gonna send

you in the ground

because you let them drown

your thoughts by the pound

so turn it around

I’m here for you

to tighten those screws 

and fight the the lies

that have been spewed

just please, allow me to


I heard what you said, but it’s your turn to listen

Is this really your final decision?

I promise we can break you out of this internal prison


Why can’t you see

It’s too late for me

I can never be

truly happy


It’s not too late

it’s never too late

you’ve just got

an overfilled plate

I can NOT lose you, I’m scared

I swear I’m prepared 

to work you out of that snare 

trapping your mind

just give me some time


This life was mine

I’m sorry, goodbye


If that’s what you choose

I’ll see you soon…