Black Out

The light we need has always been over head, but we're blinded by an imitation. 

~ Look at the stars. ~  

We spent our time in the shadows of dimmed street lights. 

Everything seemed perfect there, only for a moment. 

An endless cycle, more than once we said goodbye,

But we never let go of a subconscious one last hope.

We met each other in damaged dreams many times,

In big houses full of taunting, opinionated people.

Were we fortunate both our times never seem to align?

We still tried to meet under the dimmed street lights once in a while. 

Sometimes people are lucky that light bulbs burn out -

That's the funny thing about dimmed street lights.

We didn't know the difference between black and brown outs until now,

Until there was just one remedy to those haunting lights.

Finally, I can see the stars outside my wake-less dreams. 

They're brighter and better than I thought possible. 

I broke the curse of that incessant need

To walk blindly on the tedious path for so long. 

I can't find my way back to those dimmed street lights. 

Not anymore, not even in my wildest dreams.

All those memories quickly blur in the back of my mind

Because today I finally found my remedy.

To get a more in-depth look at the world of The Porcelain Doll, be sure to follow me on Instagram, Twitter and Pinterest. Also check out my YouTube channel and my lifestyle blog, Life of the Porcelain Doll.

Waiting

We're all waiting for something to make a change in our lives. 

~ When you least expect it. ~ 

The car, the driveway.

The memories, deciding.

That room, this couch.

That shirt, a way out.

The park in the moon light.

The sound of sweet lies.

Those promises again.

Those promises broken.

She was waiting for a sunny day

in a world with only rain.

The door, an entry.

The words, false serenity.

That hat, this memory.

That phrase, like candy.

The house in emptiness.

The mind's deadliness.

Those words so sweet.

Those words still plead.

She thought it was something she needed,

had no other reason.

The magic, the message.

The fate, protective.

That time, this first.

That sign, full of nerves.

The rest's irrelevance.

This one's resonance.

Those words so true.

Those doubts renewed.

There's so much she didn't know,

until she finally let go.

The food, the conversation.

The mood, true salvation.

That day, this smile.

That change, something final.

The past is the past.

The future to last.

Those eyes never lie.

Those eyes all mine.

She knows now what it means

to really have something.

She has forgotten now 

what it was like, somehow.

She's been completely renewed

to see the truth.

She is what she's been waiting for,

all she's been hoping for.

Porcelain Doll

*Update: I started a lifestyle blog yesterday, so please follow this link and check it out! 

Life of The Porcelain Doll

 I wrote this as a lyrical poem back in middle school, and it inspired the creation of an entire world.

~ Where it all began. ~

I'm drowning in my sorrows.

I suffocate in my own air.

I fear for every tomorrow,

Bows in my synthetic hair.

See my pain through glass eyes.

No one sees that I'm there.

I've become a slave to my own devise.

It pours out from under what I wear.

My skin is milky white and cold.

Under the weight, my own legs fold.

I'm dressed up in cream colored chains.

Don't let it fool you, it's easily stained.

I'm just a porcelain doll.

Fall on the floor, I shatter to pieces.

Please pick up my heart, promise to keep it.

Glue me back together 

Forever, I break so easily.

I have a voice. Do what you want with me.

To all, I'm just a porcelain doll.

I'm falling backwards, down

On the shelf too long a while.

It hurts when I hit ground,

Sharp edges can't be filed.

Smile's painted on my face. 

But I have no reason to smile.

I can't show all my pain.

I'm older now than my miles.

My skin is milky white and cold.

Under the weight, my own legs fold.

I'm dressed up in cream colored chains.

Don't let it fool you, it's easily stained.

I'm just a porcelain doll.

Fall on the floor, I shatter to pieces.

Please pick up my heart, promise to keep it.

Glue me back together 

Forever, I break so easily.

I have a voice. Do what you want with me.

To all, I'm just a porcelain doll.

I don't need a dollhouse. I don't like these walls.

I think that I'm old enough to know how to crawl.

I can't live in a carriage for the rest of my life.

You ask me to stay, but I'm willing to fight.

I'm not so fragile. I'm not made of porcelain. 

Its time that you see that I'm just human.

I'm just a porcelain doll.

Fall on the floor, I shatter to pieces.

Please pick up my heart, promise to keep it.

Glue me back together

Forever, I break so easily.

I have a voice. Do what you want with me.

To all, I'm just a porcelain doll.

I'm just a porcelain doll.

Porcelain doll.

I'm just a porcelain doll.

Porcelain doll.

I'm just a porcelain doll.

Ghosts

They come back at the strangest times. 

~ Please fade away. ~

There's always ghosts inside our heads.

They leave such taunting memories.

They haunt us most when we are in our beds,

Trying to find peace for once in our sleep.

They come back in flashes time to time.

We are never quite so prepared.

We think we're healed, but they plague our minds,

Mixing into the safety of our present beds.

The past is behind. "Leave it behind," we say. 

Are we ever fully done with a moment?

The ghosts always seem to find their ways

Back into our present sacred moments.

They bounce off the porcelain walls.

They leave echoes of traces within us.

You can't deny they've left a mark on all

The conscious life you are living.

They seep their ways back into our lives,

Like some disease we have been treating.

We think we had wiped clean our minds,

But they seep back into our every thought.

Everything is better now. Why do the ghosts still seep

Into our rooms at night when we're safely guarded?

Everything is better than it could ever be.

Why do they still taunt us in our peaceful sleep?

But they come in here and there, in full waves.

We become hindered by our inhibitions,

But they were the ghosts of yesterday,

Sometimes tempting us, wishing for a change. 

A single scene can make them come flying in.

But you just have to push them out.

The ghosts are figments of your imagination.

They're not real, only imaginary reminders of the past.

Imagination is nothing compared to reality.

The ghosts are trying to convince you otherwise -

To be back in the state of living in memories.

But you can see the future without them.

Echoes on porcelain walls are soon all they will ever be.

The ghosts will no longer have any meaning

To us, as we lay down for our peaceful sleep.

They are merely figments of distant memories.