Liyana | 1998 | MY
+ follow | tumblr | twitter | instagram

• Poetry - "the phases of loving you."
• Poetry - "shades of paint on my skin."
• Poetry - "fictional cliches."
• Poetry - "the moon and the speck of dust."
• it is i
• 57. hey insecurities
• 56. life update
• 55. 18 things I learned in life
• 54. My Favourite Songs
• 53. Love ♥

28/4/2016 — Thursday.

shaking lungs, uneven heartbeat.
i breathe through all the dust,
gritting teeth out of the rust.
forced smile, awakened silence.
taking it in, as people pulling it out.

"i dare you, to look me in the eyes and say
that you are sick. you are fucking sick in
the brain that you don't make any sense
in this world, any longer."

i gave up.

i look away. because let's be real,
people always need an evidence
for every single thing in this mad world.
and i cannot fucking
take out my brain and heart
and show it to them how much it is
damaged, bruised, and wounded,
they'll laugh every time.
because if you cannot see it;
it was never really there, right?

"pull your shit together, hun."

i am indeed.
shaking, trying to get a grip
of all my broken pieces that are
slowly, but surely is falling apart.
as i hold another pieces,
the other one falls.

"why are you so lazy?
get out of your room."

i am not.
it just hurts every time i move.
do you even understand at all?
the sharp edges scratch me
and cut me open till i bleed.
bleed, and bleed, and bleed away.
wishing that i can bleed the demons out,
but i lose my sanity a lot more
than the blood that bleed from
the unstitched battle scars.

it is hard to make people believe,
when they do not fucking care
in the very first place, is it not?

—L.D.

Labels: my writings, poem, poetry, writings

28/4/2016 — Thursday.

shaking lungs, uneven heartbeat.
i breathe through all the dust,
gritting teeth out of the rust.
forced smile, awakened silence.
taking it in, as people pulling it out.

"i dare you, to look me in the eyes and say
that you are sick. you are fucking sick in
the brain that you don't make any sense
in this world, any longer."

i gave up.

i look away. because let's be real,
people always need an evidence
for every single thing in this mad world.
and i cannot fucking
take out my brain and heart
and show it to them how much it is
damaged, bruised, and wounded,
they'll laugh every time.
because if you cannot see it;
it was never really there, right?

"pull your shit together, hun."

i am indeed.
shaking, trying to get a grip
of all my broken pieces that are
slowly, but surely is falling apart.
as i hold another pieces,
the other one falls.

"why are you so lazy?
get out of your room."

i am not.
it just hurts every time i move.
do you even understand at all?
the sharp edges scratch me
and cut me open till i bleed.
bleed, and bleed, and bleed away.
wishing that i can bleed the demons out,
but i lose my sanity a lot more
than the blood that bleed from
the unstitched battle scars.

it is hard to make people believe,
when they do not fucking care
in the very first place, is it not?

—L.D.

Labels: my writings, poem, poetry, writings

Sometimes I wonder how people see me and what they think of me. It scares me a bit, honestly. I am sure though, that what they think of me, what they think my life is, is a complete misperception. I have always tried to show myself as a carefree person, as someone who wont get bothered because of public judgements. I am sure my friend and family think there is nothing going wrong in my life, that I do not worry enough, that I am always happy. And I am sure they probably somewhat hate me for it because, lets admit it, there is nothing worse than seeing someone who is life seems so perfect while yours is a complete mess. Truth is, I have become an expert at pretending. I think we are all experts or at least we are getting there.

links exchanged opened! just tag me but link me first

coming soon....