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hannah-wild
I want to open up my mind Dig in and pull it all apart Spread it out on a table And marvel at all the thoughts
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Sep 28, 2011
Sep 28, 2011 at 3:20 PM UTC
Untitled
Why do we have to grow up? Why can’t we be like Peter Pan? Grown ups lack creativity and imagination They see blankets and pillows While kids see forts, fights, and fun They don’t understand The joy of running through the sprinklers Or why **** noises are so hilarious They stress over everything And are unable to be carefree So why grow up? I really don’t want to And see no reason to Unfortunately as I age it gets harder and harder As I’m given more responsibilities I have less time for blanket forts and sprinklers But I’ll never grow up Never
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Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 5:23 PM UTC
Peter Pan
A classmate exclaimed As Mrs. Ragan shoved An Aladdin mug In my face as I Gained consciousness During sixth grade Art class My first seizure The depression started Soon after 10mg of lexapro Five thereapists Three neurologists Doctors **** Middle school was A Deep Dark Dooming Depression I had no friends I hated everyone And everything But mostly I hated myself Wishing I had drowned Or never woke up from My first seizure
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Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 5:20 PM UTC
“Don’t drown her!”
When I was three My mom woke up In the middle of the night To me crying profusely In my bathroom. She freaked out and ran in, Thinking I was terribly hurt. “What’s wrong, hunny?!” I sat on the sink counter And turned my face from the mirror To face her, wiping The tears with my shirtsleeve “Nothing,” I smile “Just practicing my fake crying”
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Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 5:18 PM UTC
Three
My Room has orange peels from last week. Clothing is piled on my chair. The cupcake pan from Lizzie’s birthday is balancing between my makeup bag and almost empty shower supplies. Shirts are piled atop my book shelf. There simply isn’t room in the drawers. The walls are covered with posters, pictures, and letters. Scarves hang on the door and my computer plays Van Morrison. I sit in my turquoise bed in an old t-shirt and purple ******* writing poems.
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Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 5:16 PM UTC
My Room
I want love notes I want big hands to fit in mine I want our bodies to fit within one another like a puzzle I want to know your fears I want adventures I want you to hold on to me and promise me that everything will be ok I want sunsets and sunrises with me in your arms I want to steal your gaze I want to rant about my ****** or amazing day I want breakfast for dinner I want piggyback rides I want shared hopes and dreams and aspirations I want to be perfectly comfortable just sitting together with no need for words I want music I want picnics I want them to be jealous of what we have I want curled toes I want laughter I want you
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Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 5:14 PM UTC
Love Notes
I love to people watch Imagining their lives and personalities Inventing relationships Creating their futures I’m amused by the fact that They don’t know I’m watching They entertain and inspire me While I sit up here unnoticed
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Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 5:10 PM UTC
People Watching
I cover it up I don't allow Them to see Me like this Weak Powerless Hurting I don't want The meds Or The doctors Or The ******** I want to Face it Then bury it Remaining positive Praying it doesn't Surface again They'll never know How it affects me How it never went away How I will always be Depressed
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Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 5:37 PM UTC
It
My pain drenches me I try my best to wring it all out But I somehow remain damp
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Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 5:09 PM UTC
Damp
Yellow walls surround me as I Crouch into fetal position With my back against the toilet My mother banging on the door Yelling begging me to open I drown her out with my sobbing I was clinically depressed But this was my first thought about Suicide I wanted to **** myself but I was scared and didn’t know how Instead I cried myself to sleep With disappointment in myself Sobbing within those yellow walls
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Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 4:12 PM UTC
First Time