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TakashiSenpai7
21/M/Chicago IL Gray Dawson is a writer from Chicago who tends to write about the darker things in life, in an attempt to spread awareness about these issues. Feel free to reach out, and he'll try his best to get back to you as soon as possible!
Where there once was children catching frogs in their hands, playing in the rivers dividing the sites, or trying to convince the camp staff to give them the branches they are attempting to clear, There is now only her. In the bright sun, doused in it’s heat, her body shrivels in her wheelchair. I step forward. She doesn’t move. Her head falls forward. I scoop it up. Hair lifting from the scalp, slipping away between the webbing of my fingers. I place a pillow behind her head and lay it back. She snuggles into the blankets. Pills fall into my palm; Red capsules, tiny whites, chalky blues, and pinks with dust. Carving craters into my lifelines. I place them on her bedside table. She asks me to sort them. I throw them at the wall. Two dozen stick, her mouth falls open, I scrape them off and pour them in. Her teeth chew and her tongue savors, I offer water. She sips, it piles into the stomach. Bulging. I drain it with a needle. It spills from the sky. The wind catches. Tornado sirens blare across the grounds. A scream cuts through my vocal cords. I stand on the other side of the bridge. Mud cakes the wheels of her chair. Her voice carries before falling halfway across the slick surface. A crack strikes the sky. The frogs beg me to go inside. The wind cuts the skin. My vocal cords rip and struggle against the storm. They fly into the eye. The tips of my fingers catch before they disappear. She smiles, her eyes slide closed. A strike crumbles the bridge.
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Oct 13, 2023
Oct 13, 2023 at 12:54 PM UTC
The Campground falls away
Cries ring out around the room. Beg me once more. I will not stoop. The shelter is crumbling. Walls turning pink. Windows fogging up, the gas has leaked. Trembling hands reach, no satisfaction is given. The argyle rug we live on is frayed. Rat bones pile in the corners. Starvation came and went. Matted hair is stretched with the fingers. Plucking and prodding. Dirtied face, green as the curtains. Pressing deeper into the walls. The next course is served. A dead dream, warts, rotted meat. The others fight for the meat. I rip a piece of the dream. Bring a finger to the lips and shush. The dream stops screaming. Blue skies and honeyed words capture. Fading into the carpet, resting my head on the bones. A scratch strikes the entrance. Silence. Screech. Hiss. Silence. We open the door, then close it. It is not an exit after all. The girl to my left, blinks at me. I tell her no, not yet. I will wait for the exit. She blinks once more. We just have to wait for it. Glazed eyes meet mine. She crumbles. The next course has been served.
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Oct 13, 2023
Oct 13, 2023 at 12:51 PM UTC
The Dinner Party
Pigment caked under my nails. Tasting the metallic remnants of a lost childhood. The reality is hidden in visions and supposed dreams. Fed to me, was the comforting hugs of mother and soothing lies. Grew up in the age of paid horror. A new appendage is cheaper than keeping the original. Marked by the price of my body. Each fall, subtracting, each workout, adding. Beauty is a curse nowadays. Each beautiful child is raised and sold for millions. Each ugly child prays to be one of the lucky to receive the new parts. Greedy families hope for attractive offspring, to disassemble for a new future. A pair of brilliant green eyes can change your luck. Having blue eyes guarantees you to be blind. Leaving you with shades to cover the hollow left behind. Adults will tell you sports lead to a promising future. But they don’t tell you that it’ll lead you to losing your body. Self-harm is a death sentence. A cut drops your value. It forces you into the career of taking. Taking the beauty from the beautiful. Cutting a limb or two won’t hurt them. Taking an eye is just life. Tell yourself they should know better. They should’ve expected it. Expect the unexpected when you are beautiful. Expect a life of pain. Expect misery and lose those emotions when you are ugly. You won’t need that conscience. Forget about the forgotten already. Use that arm to grab a new leg. Use your head to get a better one. Use your emptiness to end others. They won’t need that life. And don’t forget, to use your misery. The more miserable you are, the better off the world is when you end it.
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Nov 8, 2020
Nov 8, 2020 at 8:48 PM UTC
"The World of Taking"
Pigment caked under my nails. Tasting the metallic remnants of a lost childhood. The reality is hidden in visions and supposed dreams. Fed to me, was the comforting hugs of mother and soothing lies. Grew up in the age of paid horror. A new appendage is cheaper than keeping the original. Marked by the price of my body. Each fall, subtracting, each workout, adding. Beauty is a curse nowadays. Each beautiful child is raised and sold for millions. Each ugly child prays to be one of the lucky to receive the new parts. Greedy families hope for attractive offspring, to disassemble for a new future. A pair of brilliant green eyes can change your luck. Having blue eyes guarantees you to be blind. Leaving you with shades to cover the hollow left behind. Adults will tell you sports lead to a promising future. But they don’t tell you that it’ll lead you to losing your body. Self-harm is a death sentence. A cut drops your value. It forces you into the career of taking. Taking the beauty from the beautiful. Cutting a limb or two won’t hurt them. Taking an eye is just life. Tell yourself they should know better. They should’ve expected it. Expect the unexpected when you are beautiful. Expect a life of pain. Expect misery and lose those emotions when you are ugly. You won’t need that conscience. Forget about the forgotten already. Use that arm to grab a new leg. Use your head to get a better one. Use your emptiness to end others. They won’t need that life. And don’t forget, to use your misery. The more miserable you are, the better off the world is when you end it.
Continue reading...
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It starts with curiosity It starts with impulse One cut here One cut there It wont get out of hand I swear Impulse continues This awful addiction You know it's wrong So you cover it up Bracelets Long sleeves Kiss swimming goodbye You can't swim in long sleeves The habit never ends You know it's true The pull is always there Waiting for you
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Mar 5, 2020
Mar 5, 2020 at 11:49 AM UTC
The Habit
Wrists Childish wrists Soft and white Aside from a few lines Wrists Scarred and rough Raised along different points of the wrist Hundreds of lines on this one Old lines Wrists Bruises from a tight grip Soft little lines Not noticeable to anyone but the wrist Wrists Teary wrists Cried into often Soft and pale Wrists Everywhere On everyone Yet no one notices The little signs
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Mar 5, 2020
Mar 5, 2020 at 11:39 AM UTC
Wrists
The stars shine bright as the moon emits light It's all prettier than I write I write about depression My obsessions and my daily confessions It's easier to write than to fight most of the time I write by candlelight or so I wish I instead write by a LED light The one I bought on wish but that's not the important bit The sun & the moon will always upstage this fool after all, they're too **** beautiful
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Mar 3, 2020
Mar 3, 2020 at 8:45 AM UTC
Writer’s Rant
The rage bubbles Like lave trapped in a cage The pain troubles my poor little page. I write about madness  my poor little brain  it feels me going mad As I write my last refrain The happiness seeping in  as the voices try to win  They aren't doing a very good job  cause they soon turn into a blob The happiness lets me know I won  the war of surviving a day more I let the sadness go As I reach for the light to let the good dreams come after another day won
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Mar 3, 2020
Mar 3, 2020 at 8:42 AM UTC
The Daily Fight
The warm rays of the sun on my back The soft wet grass underneath my feet Soft clouds glide across the sky above The birds chirping morning melodies Everything perfect Close your eyes and open them Welcome back to the real world The cold rain pouring on my back The muddy debris filled grass no one steps in The overly polluted sky The cawing crows Reality really bites
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Mar 3, 2020
Mar 3, 2020 at 8:40 AM UTC
Reality Bites
I lifted my head From my hospital bed To find an IV And some meds "Am I dead" I say aloud "No, Not yet" A scary grin on his face And eyes that lust for my death He takes a step in my direction With a knife in his left "So long my good friend" He says With a creepy grin Just moments Before my very ****** death
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Mar 3, 2020
Mar 3, 2020 at 8:36 AM UTC
Am I Dead?
He was lost On the sea Of exhaust He was tossed From his own mind Because of his home life He thought He would never be found After all, It was his fault Until someone talked Telling him how to heal his wound He was shocked Because someone knocked And found A lost child
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Mar 3, 2020
Mar 3, 2020 at 8:34 AM UTC
Lost and Found