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~Setting The World On Fire~

It’s really all I’ve ever known…

neuroticdream:

Cory.. | via Facebook on We Heart It.

neuroticdream:

Cory.. | via Facebook on We Heart It.

neuroticdream:

Just loving it on We Heart It.

neuroticdream:

Just loving it on We Heart It.

Don’t try to tell me she ain’t worth it….

thislstherealryanross:

real nostalgia.

all the songs that got you through your seventh grade emo phase.

[listen]

ventingsome:

the alcoholic has downed alcohol yet again.

pathetic.

I told you, you were dead to me
and somehow these words never really acted
like they should have,
no patches on my soul,
no band-aids on my scraped knees;
so how should I wear black
and mourn your gentle passing
when I didn’t get the chance to
close the coffin over your malicious body
when I didn’t get any closure
because the ghost of who you once were
wouldn’t stop haunting me,
selfishly cutting me in little pieces,
not even bothering to throw them away.

there’s one piece
desperately clinging on to a faded photograph
of my fifth birthday,
where you held my hand
and helped me blow out the candles,
not knowing you’d blow out my dreams
sooner than anyone could have imagined

there’s another one
and I’m fifteen,
falling apart as the plane of you
crashes without a notice
into the lives we allegedly built together
(or maybe we just lied to ourselves all along)
and I feel the cracks of bones I never knew I had

and it’s not fair
because you’re rowing away
while I’m drowning
and it’s you who pushed me off the boat
in the first place.
the cold guilt freezes my lungs
as my mind begs for relief
but the heart won’t stop goddammit
the heart keeps beating
and feeling and hurting and fighting
and maybe instead of trying
to stop its storm
with pillows of angst and the venom of your words,
I should be the one
patching it up,
sewing the bleeding veins back together,
tending its arteries until it heals again.

I trusted you
but somehow I still smell
the alcohol in your breath
as you leaned over the table
whispering away your own responsibility,
along with a slurred
“happy birthday”;
they say little girls need to fear nothing,
that the only knight they need is their caring daddy,
but I guess you traded your shining armor
for another glass of wine
because there were never flowers in my castle,
only dark, purple bruises
clouding the fragile arms
you should have held.

“My parents have been divorced for three years because of my dad’s drinking problem and violent behavior. He blamed me for everything and I told him he was dead to me. Now I miss him and I feel the guilt eating me from inside out.” // luana gavan
(via shadowsofink)