I wrote this along with 5 others last night after some rather... unexpected events. Well, scratch that. After one very hurtful one. But that is besides the point. I wasn't in the greatest of all moods, but not many people would be. Anne Marie suggested I post this one, but I don't know how long I will actually keep it here. This is entirely unedited, so bare with it. As always, comments/critique appreciated.

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Silence is unheard of,
At 42 Crescent Avenue.
Laying awake in the early hours,
With a pillow over his head;
Wishing for it to block out the voices from the living room,
Or censor his breathing -
He cries,
As he begs his parents to stop digging their claws into each other's skin,
To tear away what they've both become.

Mother's crying at the way life fails to please her;
Father raises his voice,
To cut away her tears to melt away the guilt that he's failing to provide;
Failing to love the conflict of interest,
They call a marriage.

In a cycle of arguements extended from the week previous,
Escape is the only thing that even taunts his mind;
To which, he hides the bottles and dispensed pill containers under his bed.
Psychologist told him to reach to his comfort zone;
Told him to play videogames,
But the television set was broken as he barely escaped the hands of his father,
As he pleaded:
"I don't want to die!"
So he collects the glass,
And places it amongst his bedsheets so he can bleed into the night,
So God can see something more than tears and anger,
And grants him his prayers.

In the silence of the night,
When the parasites sleep from their feed,
He wanders the back yard to the garden shed.
Taking his father's rifle,
He presses it to his lips;
The scars on his back bleed with anticipation,
As he sweats all that he could cry.
Pulling the trigger,
God grants him his wish;
His release,
So that he may die.

Mother was hospitalised,
And Father locked away in prison.
Sleeping soundly,
The ghost of a boy in the empty home smiles;
For he found salvation without naroctics,
But in all splender he relishes the moment;
His release,
From the flesh that had binded them all.

This has a lot of personal meaning... I wrote it last night. Comments appreciated.

Shattered Angel

Tears drip
the mask slips
Transparent (it has become)
eyes of carnival glass
Stare (without expression)
as it tumbles
to the ground.

Crystal shatters
shards scatter
Fragments (of a fragile facade)
reflect the darkness-
the void (so carefully hidden)
behind an angel's veil.

The void reveals
A tale unreal
The secrets trapped within (never to be found)
Speak of an angel's atrocities.. (unknown)

She sings in silence
as she shakes with violence
Time sneaks behind her (it scares her so)
in darkness
it awaits…

The bottle, now empty (has taken her aura)
Slips away (unnoticed)
from
fragile
white-porcelain
fingers..
she awaits her "happiness"
as she stares into the splintered mirror (it gives new life)
it's million reflections of herself…
Dark eyes widen at the horror (it magnifies the past)
of what she has failed to become.