Archive for the ‘JamesP’ Category


Posted: May 20, 2016 by jpiercey in JamesP, Uncategorized

Worthlessness feels like you don’t matter; it feels like nothing you do makes an impact. Worthlessness strangles and suffocates you like black smoke, to the point you can’t breathe anymore. Worthlessness whispers through its disgusting lips into your ears, telling you that nobody cares about you, that nobody loves or needs you. It consumes your soul as it rots, infesting your core like maggots to a corpse. It transforms who you were and makes you a walking, breathing zombie. It kills you.


Posted: May 20, 2016 by jpiercey in JamesP, Uncategorized

Remember the Sadness,

Remember the Pain,

Remember what shaped you, day by day

Remember the Tragedies you’ve endured,

Every Problem that has occurred

Because one day, you’ll look back on those miseries

And remember who you are because of those memories


Spaced Out

Posted: April 13, 2016 by jpiercey in JamesP, Uncategorized

I often wish to not exist

I will always look ahead

Outside I’m smiling, inside I’m screaming

Last Dragon

Posted: April 12, 2016 by jpiercey in JamesP, Uncategorized

Very often, I slumber

It is relaxing, somber

The glitter of gold lets me see

In the black darkness, this can be


I rarely leave and take flight

To where I can see the earth,

A magnificent kind of blight


There will be need of a passion-fueled fire

But such exhaustion always results in my tire


I am the last of my kind,

And it is the silence that may remind


Little Reaper

Posted: April 12, 2016 by jpiercey in JamesP, Uncategorized

You were made, only of bone,

Heartless, brainless, gutless—nothing inside

You wrap yourself tightly with a cloak

So nobody witnesses the horrors you feel the need to hide inside

You’re the remains of a corpse,

Skeleton, ghoul, zombie, whatever alias you align with yourself

To remind you that you’re not human,

That you have no soul and will forever be alone but no one ever knows

It is not well, living as a Halloween character,

Because when people catch a sight of what you are,

They ask you to remove the mask, to see the real you,

But are horrified once they see that all you have to show is the ghastly ghoul face

They scream, they run, leaving you wondering why you’re born the way you are,

If there’s a way to change who you are,

But once you try countless times,

You’re left angry because you can only be a reaper and that nobody will accept that fact