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serena-corbett
serena-corbett
17/F Hello, my name is SakuraSkye, I'm 17 years old, and I come from Ireland. / I really enjoy reading, writing and singing. / I tend to write poems to discuss my feelings and I create poetry as often as I can, usually during free time at school.
Cinderella, dressed in yella, went upstairs to kiss her fella, What she saw there wasn't great, Prince Charming's got another date. Jack and Jill went up the hill, to fetch a pail of water. Jack fell over and broke his crown, now he's paralysed from the neck down. Hickory dickory dock, the mouse ran up the clock. Got stuck inside and slowly died, hickory dickory dock. Hey ****** ****** the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon. Cow falls on the cat, and squashes it flat, his 9 lives were taken so soon. Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are? Soon you'll be gone from the sky, for like my dreams you'll burn and die. Hush little baby, don't you cry, 'cuz mummy left daddy for another guy. Daddy's gonna drink another shot, then drunkenly abuse his tiny tot.
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Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 1:23 PM UTC
Childhood Ruined
I'm trapped. Trapped in a bubble. A bubble of my own cruel thoughts. A bubble of my own cruel emotions. Emotions which leave me numb, empty, lonely. Emotions which pain me so, beating me, slowly. I scream out for help; but I cannot be heard. The bubble is invincible, inside it is my own harsh world. On the outside, others see me. Or what they think is me. Their happiness; reflected upon the shiny exterior. Their happiness; which they think is my happiness. Although; my happiness abandoned me long ago. Leaving me to live a joyless life inside the bubble. A life that doesn't belong to me. A life that belongs to the bubble. It owns me. It rules me. It hurts me. Save me. . .
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Nov 4, 2017
Nov 4, 2017 at 8:35 PM UTC
Bubble.
Clowns and bears and bumblebees. Being lost amongst big trees. Getting eaten by a shark. Walking around in the dark. Blood and bones and all things gory. That one awful, spooky story. Giant crowds and tiny spaces. High up buildings, unusual faces. Going out without your phone. Paying off your student loan. Mortgages, debts and bills galore. That sudden knocking at your door. . . Happy Halloween!
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Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 9:40 PM UTC
Scary things.
Hi there! Wanna sleep? Too bad! Are you smiling? Now you're sad! Party invite? Lets not go! Suffering? No one can know! Seeking help? Think again! Relaxing? Oh remember when. . . Working hard? Why even try? Feeling good? Oops, time to cry! You look pretty? No you don't! Wanna eat? Well now you won't! Getting better? Or so you thought! Will I leave you? Probably not!
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Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 9:30 PM UTC
A conversation with depression.
1,2,3,4, players gather on the board. 4,3,2,1 roll the dice, the game's begun. Moving forward space-by-space, how unfortunate that I'm last place. I see the others moving, ahead again-and-again. 1st,2nd,3rd they've got me beat. I am in 4th, a tragic defeat. They climb the ladders,going far, space 50, 51, 52. Look at me, I'm stuck on 9, Everyone, please don't leave me behind. Sooner or later, they reach the end, celebrations all around, except for me. Sliding down snakes, time-after-time, I don't have a chance, victory will never be mine.
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Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 8:18 PM UTC
Snakes and Ladders
Snip, snip, snip, the scissors slice right through the page. A pack of paper dolls created, to now take centre-stage. One of those dolls are different, and that doll is me. I have so many faults and flaws, my life wasn’t meant to be. So many bumps and scars, and a torn-up outline. I’m covered up with nice bright colours, to appear like all is fine. Then we each receive a smile, so glowing, fresh, and new. But upon my face she paints a frown, I’m not like the rest of you. My sad looks soon stand out, and they hate my imperfections. So she takes out a pair of scissors, to make a few corrections. My weightless,worthless body, floats gently to the floor. As the other paper dolls, are hung up for all to adore.
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Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 9:34 AM UTC
Paper Dolls
I am alone Alone at school Alone at home In my room, on my own. Alone when I laugh Alone when I cry Alone when I want to give up and die. Alone by night Alone by day Alone by hiding myself away No love, no life, just my wrist and a knife. . . I am alone Alone in life Alone in bed Alone with my arm covered in red. Alone in pain Alone in need Alone as I let myself bleed. Alone when healthy Alone when ill Alone when I take one final pill. I die alone I am alone
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Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 7:09 PM UTC
Alone
If I were a bird, how joyous would life be? I could live without stress and strife, I could finally be free. If I were a bird, never would I have to talk. Not a word could my bulky beak blather, all I could do is sing and squawk. If I were a bird, oh, the places I could go. I could soar above the clouds, in the orange, sunset glow. If I were a bird, I could escape all my pain. I could spread my wings and fly away, never to be seen again. If I were a bird, how joyous would life be? But sadly, I am not a bird, and I must continue being me.
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Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 12:54 PM UTC
Bird
I stand atop the railings, and take in some fresh air. If I were to jump now, would anybody care? The world is now retreating, I feel myself getting further from the ground. If I took my life a mile away, would I even make a sound? A crowd soon starts to gather, they say "You have your whole life ahead of you!" But life isn't some simple game, if only those fools knew. I fill my lungs with one breath, as do others as I leap. I smile, knowing what awaits me, is joy and eternal sleep. The world must truly despise me, something just won't let me leave. I lie conscious on the ground, wiping my tears with a frayed jumper sleeve. Strangers try to comfort me, they say "It's okay to cry." But crying won't change anything, it's easier to give up and die.
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Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 5:17 PM UTC
Bridge
Roses are red, The violets are dying, Outside I look fine, But inside I'm crying. Facing the world, Such an arduous task, Now that I must hide, Behind a smiling mask. You can tell life's a worry, When the number of scars, On your arms equal, The total of all the sky's stars. The roses now wilted, The violets have died, But never will someone, Know what goes on inside.
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Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 12:01 PM UTC
Roses