Looking Through My Eyes by Kayla Stiles (literature books to read txt) 📕

Towards you, yet dematerializes as soon as you open your eyes

To cast your gaze around your moonlit bedroom.

Time is that unforeseen enemy that creeps and crawls

Behind the scenes of your life,

Stealing away your innocence here,

Taking away a most revered relative there.

Time is that ungodly demon,

That which deals the deadliest blows

To your very heart and soul

When the time is most definitely NOT right.

When you are already at a most fragile and broken state.

When you are already so torn apart inside

That Time just makes you want to scream at the top of your lungs.

Scream at the whole world, the whole UNIVERSE!

Scream until you can’t scream anymore,

Until your voice is cracked and hoarse, and your heart is deadened. 

And then Time goes even further with its disgraceful game,

And makes you curl up into a tiny ball

And cry, and cry, and cry.

Cry until you’ve cried so long that your tears run dry,

And your cheeks are stained with the salty patches that those

Great torrents of water bursting from your eyes

Have left behind in their wake.

Time takes away those you hold most dear to you,

When you’re not ready to say good-bye yet.

When you’re not ready to watch as that

Great black mahogany casket

Is lowered into an earthy hole in the ground.

When you’re not ready to see an urn,

Merely a small metal casket,

Encase all that was once your aunt, your uncle,

Your mom, your dad, your cat, your sister,

Your brother…. Your grandmother.

When you’re not ready to face the reality

That this could be the end.

That you might never again rest your eyes on that

Wonderful face of that wonderful person.

That you might never again talk with them,

Laugh and crack jokes with them,

Or even just sit there and cry in their arms.

Time is the evil-doer that hides in the night,

That part of the day that most people find the most relaxing,

And waits on its prey.

Just waiting to pounce and wreak havoc

Amongst the lives of many.

Time is the one that stole my baby girl,

My sweet angelic Gadget, my Witches’ Cat,

My sister, from me before her years were used up.

Stole my baby girl on May 13, 2012. 

Time…. Is the one stealing my Oma from me now…

Time… is evil…. 

The Artist

8/24/11

She sits alone on a school bench.

No one else is present.

The school is empty,

It’s after dark.

She rocks back and forth,

Arms wrapped around her stomach,

Hands holding her elbows.

Blood coats her hands,

Spatters her clothes,

Her face, clings under her nails.

Tears race through the blood on her face,

Rain down from her crystal eyes.

A canvass lies at her feet,

Every inch covered by varying shades

Of red and brown and black.

The image,

That of a young girl,

Sprawled out on a stone table,

Nude but for a few shreds of cloth

Wrapped about her breasts.

A body lays at the live girl’s feet,

A knife protruding from the chest.

It is that of a young man.

He died of a literally broken heart.

The painting sits there,

Mocking the two teens, one living, one dead,

With the blood it was painted with.

Her wrists are slashed,

His chest is open, exposing his broken heart.

She lies beside him, tears still pouring from her eyes. She curls up against him,

Puts his limp arms around her shoulders.

Within minutes, she too is dead.

The Darkness Lies Within

2/24/14

Trees thrashing amongst one another,

Crashing into each other,

Bashing their fellow kin with thorned fingers.

The sky overcast and blackened

By the angry clouds rushing in,

Crowding together to conceal

That brilliant blue ceiling above,

That which was just there moments before.

Hiding the golden yellows, ruby reds,

Tabby oranges, and royal purples

Entailing the comings and goings of the sun.

The sun! Where is the sun?!

That burning ball of white flame

Lies in hiding, just below

The crest of the green mountain tops.

The wind, oh how it howls!

Oh! How it moans and groans

As the trees tear one another apart.

Suddenly, the clouds part,

The golden rays of heavenly light peak through.

The wind slows to a soft breeze.

But then the clouds darken.

That wonderful ray of light disappears,

Once again suffocated by the clouds.

Then, those great puffy clouds finally burst,

And begin to sob.

The rain slams into the earth.

The breeze turns the land

Into a giant wind tunnel.

Trees uproot themselves,

The wind screams with rage,

And all the while the sky continues to cry.

And so it goes on.

The wind screaming, the trees thrashing,

The sky sobbing in great torrents.

When the fight concludes,

The sky clears, the wind stops,

And the torn and tattered trees stop their quarrelling.

All is at peace, it seems.

But not for long.

No, not for long.

The Monster Within

1/21/11

You may not be able to break my blackened, shattered heart

But I sure as hell can shatter and destroy yours.

Don’t touch me, you’ll burn yourself.

Don’t try to get close, I’ll tear you apart.

I’ll take you down to Hell, I’ll give you many tours

Of the deepest, darkest corner of Hell itself.

For I am Hell itself, and, in the end, at the end of the day,

You’ll be lying at me feet, covered in blood, dead.

Don’t try to love me, you’ll never love a monster like me.

I refuse to ask you not to leave, to beg you to stay.

Because I know I’m only going to destroy you, crush your gentle little head.

I will torture you, I will kill you inside and I’ll NEVER hear your plea.

     Goodbye! *slice*

The Past

11/24/13

2:16 a.m.

The past. It often catches up to us when we least expect it.

The past. It often pops up when we don’t want it to.

It’s that dark shadow that crosses the room

At the edges of your peripherals.

It’s that tiny voice in the back of your mind,

Speaking in soft tones of times long gone.

The past is that small inkling of recognition you get

When you cross paths with someone you once

Held dear and close to your heart.

It’s that feeling you get in your heart,

That feeling of emptiness,

And deep longing for comfort and replacement.

But you can’t replace what’s already gone.

You can’t lose a friend and have someone else take their place.

You can’t lose a girl,

A girl you held so close to your heart that it hurt to let her go,

And just find someone else to fill the gaping hole she left behind.

You fall in love,

Not always only once in your lifetime,

And not always with someone of the opposite gender.

You fall in love,

And you lose your chance with that one that you love.

But you can’t get that chance back.

And you remain good friends with that person.

And yet, society frowns down upon you if,

God forbid,

You become jealous when you see her out with another girl.

When she replies to others’ messages and not your own.

When she posts that she’s so happy,

Thanks to someone that’s not you,

And it breaks your heart to see these things.

It breaks your heart to realize that you lost your chance.

That now it’s time for someone else to take your place.

Time for someone else to take the place you left behind,

Empty and isolated.

It hurts to see her laughing, smiling, holding hands

With another young woman.

But all you can really do is sit back and watch,

Tell her you’re happy for her and let it be.

Because, how dare you get upset over her being with someone else.

How dare you be upset over the fact that, of all the criteria she’s told you

About her girlfriend needing to be,

You fit the bill almost perfectly.

How dare you feel hurt and isolated

From your first true love,

From your very first good relationship.

I mean, it’s not like she loved you back or anything.

It’s not like she wanted you back as much as you wanted her.

It’s not like you two had so much in common

That you felt a heat wave of a connection tying you together.

It’s not like you were always there, always waiting,

Waiting for a chance to win her back,

To be the one she’s been waiting for to make her happy again.

Even if only for a temporary amount of time.

It’s not like you loved her…

And told her of your love time and time again.

No. It’s not like any of that happened.

Even though it did.

Who knows? Maybe one day,

One miraculously fateful day,

Your paths will cross again and twist and turn to combine a

United embrace of happiness and caring.

But I doubt it. I highly doubt it.

Because, once you lose that opportunity,

It’s rare to get a second chance at that which you wish to occur.

It’s rare… To get a second chance at your first love. 

The PeaceMaker (PeaceKeeper)

10/29/14

By Kayla Stiles

Your cold, unfeeling skin touches upon mine

And suddenly my pain