I’ve always had an intense and active imagination, a second voice - An inner being.
At 6 years old, it manifested itself to me at a time when I felt nothing but great trepidation. And now at 31 years old, standing five feet five and living under the sign of Libra, that same inner being still exists, never ceasing its silence and only getting stronger. “It’s a frightening reality to know that we’re not the masters of our house”, our own mind. But for me, I find it very comforting. No one wants to come home to a cold and empty house.
As long as I have myself, I’ll never be lonely.
“It’s inside myself that I must create someone who will understand” – Clarice Lispector
I’m confronting my unconscious mind, delving deep and bringing everything up to the surface and into the light, exposing the plethora of thoughts and emotions that plague my pretty and unhinged mind.
My physical voice is silent, but my second voice screams. The inner being takes over and I just write.
It all becomes dictation now……
They wonder why I’m so different, so unusual. So disconnected. I’m an exotic flower that blooms alone – mysterious and aloof. I’m sick and taken by the darkness that I shine so brightly in. I’m the finger down your spine, I’m glamorous and I’m deranged.
My aura of blood orange and gold is alluring and yet the gloaming surroundings turn as black as the night. Paradise is a hell coloured flame sky.
“Mary prays the rosary for my broken mind (I said, "Don't worry 'bout it")” - LDR
I have no set personality, like a chameleon I can adapt and change my colours. People don’t like me, they like my curated creations; the different versions of myself. I go about life upholding my own personal masquerade. I’m calculating, my words are chosen carefully and my moves are premeditated - life is my chessboard and I’m the queen.
But it wasn’t always like this. A relationship with the wrong person fuelled a ten year dead end cycle that broke the psyche, though a beautiful poet healed it – Kintsugi. Thank the one who made your cunt cringe; if it weren’t for him I wouldn’t feel free.
“Anyone can start again. Not through love, but through revenge. Through the fire, we’re born again. Peace by vengeance, brings the end” – LDR
The shift had been made; through the fire I was born again, the flames melting the ribbons in my hair.
I’m poison in the honey. I’m fucking crazy and full of rage. I still resent the fact that my father was taken away from me, I go on to find others like him - looking for what I wanted back.
I’m surrounded by simps who give me standing ovations and cult leaders who parade me around as though I’m their daughter, the black narcissist inside me feels at peace. I appear angelic, and that’s how they see me. But what they don’t see are the horns sprouting from my temples - I’m diabolically angelic.
There’s only one man that I’d wait for, saving my love for him and only him. So until then, I kill time. My love to anyone else is meaningless, like little water droplets that cling to beautifully laced spider webs, glittering in the glow of the light. And yet I continue to entertain the idea because meaningless love is humorous to me, it’s my own beautiful and sick in-joke that no one will ever know.
“I want blood, guts, and chocolate cake” - Electra Heart
Physical touch repulses me, I want back my virginity just to feel infinite again, with-holding it from everyone except one, holding it above their heads as though it’s a prize that will never be won.
I live in dream-slow soft focus motion, siren gazes and pillowy pouts. I feel the crisp air blowing through my polished curls as I stare euphorically into the flashing lights, I have found god; I have found myself. I’m at the edge of greatness now. I am incarnate.
I am a fucking star and the whole world is mine!
So allow me to be blunt. I am you, Rose. Therefore you’re going to do what I tell you to do because I’ll always be in your head, plaguing your mind like a sickness, diseasing your thoughts with sin and decay- Darling; I’m your new cancer.
I’m sent to destroy, we both are.
About the Creator
Rose Dove
𝐿𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝐼𝓂𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈 𝒜𝓇𝓉; a curation of personal pieces and poems that carry glimpses into my past and present.
🖤🪬
IG: @thehausofdove
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