Tina MacAdam

Here is a little something I wrote while sitting here crying. This is something that I do not mind if you share with anyone else. This is the last thing that will happen to me or affect me in any way. I am done. Thank you for being there when I needed an ear. thank you for being there when I didnt have anyone else. Thank you for never judging me and for always being honest. I hope you have someone as good as you to do the same in your times of need.
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a swing
empty
rusting
abandoned
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A whisper in your ear in the dark
A feeling deep down inside
A moment of weakness
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A dark, deep cavernous hole is where your lost
distant from all that matters to you any more
all of the evils you have faced are there with you
teasing and tormenting you, clawing and reaching for you
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The only day worth living is today.
Not yesterday or tomorrow.
Yesterday may have been a bad day or filled with heartaches. Tomorrow may bring you a whole new world of problems.
But today is always a good day.
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I see the world in various shades of grey
The bright vibrant colors have vanished
The sun has become nothing more than a memory
Along with the warmth it leaves on everything it touches
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flip the coin. heads or tails? roll the dice, does your number come up? nothing is certain. nothing is guaranteed. life is a gamble. its a risk. its alot of things. but one thing it is not is permanent. you could wake up tomorrow to find everything and everyone you know is gone. you could wake up tomorrow and everything could be different. providing you wake up at all. you have choices, but you never know if they are the right ones. sometimes they are, and sometimes you wish you had chose differently.

flip the coin
roll the dice
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A closed door
between me and the world
blocking everything out
keeping other things in
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you can walk around with your fake smile
for the world to see
but we all know that behind those eyes
pain hides within
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A broken window, covered in dust
An empty glass sitting on the table
A love letter, never opened, left behind
Pictures still hanging on the walls
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like streams coming down the side of a mountain
into a pool at the bottom
blood flows
like an orange when peeled with the insides revealed
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i hold it in my hands, eyes closed, turning it over and over
everything is just like it was then
every sound, sight, smell, feeling
they all come back to me like they had never really left
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Haul me awy in shackles. Lock me in a cage
Its probably the safest place, considering all my rage
Anger takes over, Words are spoken out of hate
Sometimes it can be controlled, Sometimes it is simply just too late
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no details
no anything
no, thats not true
i have something
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My hands are bleeding and cut
from the shattered pieces im picking up
scattered all over the floor in front of me
i have spent hours sitting here on floor
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Let me paint you a picture, on canvas of white. The contrast is brilliant. Using a vibrant shade of red. Let me draw on the canvas with my fingers, one line at a time. Let it drip and run freely, nothing holding it back. The once white canvas, now changed into a painting of a scene from my mind. Something I want to share with the world. It says something, without words. It has a meaning like no other. But no one else understands it but me.

Let me paint you a picture on a canvas of white. The darkness that covers it runs off onto the floor. the walls. all around the room. The black drips from everything. Covering the room, so no one can see what has happened here before. The black hides everything. much like dark, the night. it will be nothing more than a memory
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