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MattersOfTheMind
MattersOfTheMind
22/F/Amsterdam, Netherlands
Allow me to ultimately succumb to my fate; Spill down onto the sidewalk along with the other helpless raindrops and slide into the gutter. Allow me to finally let go of the blissful, blue balloon; fall to the ground, and disintegrate in midst of the dirt. Allow me to disappear Forever and always; into thin air, like a cloud of dark fairy dust. Allow me to cry a flood of tears and sorrow; enough to fill an ocean Deep and Wide. Allow me to bask in this dark void of emptiness that fills my mind and chest; rendering me plainly incapable. Please, just let me go.
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Jun 23, 2019
Jun 23, 2019 at 4:59 PM UTC
Let me go
Feeling the metal sink into your flesh and glide along the vast plane of your skin. Growing exposed to the outside world, to the ability to breathe again— The bubbles begin to rise lining the sides of the wound. Once they begin to pile, a large wave of red flows over the lining, and down the rest of the plane. —— It finally contains itself mildly, allowing for the wave to slow at the shore; It’s not the end for you yet, as you succumb to the temptation once more.
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May 4, 2019
May 4, 2019 at 5:31 PM UTC
Sink
Head placed upon the middle of your pillow, leaving a circular dent surrounding it- Your pigtails on the side, tied in pink and red bows. An attire of frilly, cotton, pyjamas, tainted with dainty flowers- a total of 32 spastically placed. Memories Filled with frills and pixie dust, along with the shards of glass -lined with blood. Thinking back, On the beauty of the moments, Of the innocence that once filled your mind- gently placed upon the pillow lined with delicate lace, beneath your frail, fazed face.
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Apr 26, 2019
Apr 26, 2019 at 12:50 PM UTC
Frail Frills
A large, vast ball fills within, as the pain from the wreckage continues to reside. A grand sensation of emptiness and loneliness floods in- Evoking an even greater amount of melancholy and blurred lines. Yearning to return to the past; where the grass was greener, the sky was clearer, the doors were open wide, and the telephone lines were unhindered. Wishing to be rid of this nostalgia and live in the moment, once more. Prior to the large loss, that created an awful sore.
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Apr 26, 2019
Apr 26, 2019 at 12:46 PM UTC
Vast
Standing there, on the cold, damp sand in the open air. Hearing the gush of the waves Crash against the rocks and roll onto the shore -Gently kissing your feet. The Coldness is overpowered by the emotions and relief within. The light finally begins to rise, The skies grow a blissful blue- in contrast to the regular, deeply darkened grey; mirroring the colour within your mind. Feeling your hair ****** forward along with the black crow- The long residing and awaiting crow. The final release, Resulting in the return of light, tranquility, and peace. The final release of this Dead Weight -constantly on your shoulder, Weighing down on your chest, and fluttering throughout your mind. --- The final release freeing you from this Godawful, hell of a disease.
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Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 6:07 PM UTC
The Final Release
Days are for the sun to shine, the light to beam, and the fake smiles, laughter, and confidence to emerge. Nights are for the moonlight to seep through the clouds, The stars to glisten, And the hauled up tears to finally come streaming down.
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Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 8:35 AM UTC
Contrast
Skin tight. Bone hugging, more like - is what is wished for and deemed right The only way to Grant this wish, fulfill this desire, correct the wrong is to get rid of the hiss, right? And in order to do so, The Snake will come slithering up and through your torso, as a reaction to the bristles on your toothbrush; Resembling grass coaxing the snake out of its hiding. Leaving your body and mind Empty, relieved, satisfied and pleased. Yet so fraught, disappointed, fearsome and creased.
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Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 8:17 PM UTC
Hiss
Imagine being a caterpillar. Curled up in your cocoon, Dreaming of soaring the interstellar And up and around the moon. Wishing for some fresh air, And someplace, somehow, somewhere, to be able to finally spread your wings and Fly. But in reality you’re stuck. Stuck and curled up. Forever eyeing and envying the eccentric butterflies Fluttering and flourishing throughout the skies.
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Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 7:57 AM UTC
Whoosh
The clench of your teeth and fist, Digging into your gums and wrist. Your limbs, throat and chest tightened, Feeling angry, engulfed, and terribly frightened. Your eyes have gone fuzzy and dark. Your face, frail and stark. Confusion fills the air, As you’ve caused such a scare. This is what occurs, When you feel an attack, Stealthily creeping Up and behind your back.
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Dec 20, 2018
Dec 20, 2018 at 8:15 PM UTC
Creeping
Fits of hyper-venti-lation With no seemingly logical explanation. All you’ve done is say those six sharp words, That are now stabbing you in the back, just like swords. Your thoughts jumbled up in a giant mess, Lost in all of the dark, heavy stress. And it’s all pressed On your quivering, fragile chest. It feels like a never ending pit. No one seems to understand it. And now all you’re left with, is that dizzy-making, stomach-churning hell of a fit
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Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 9:35 AM UTC
Fit