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Who is this girl I see below me who holds this far off stare
She holds no concern for me as I dance through the air

I live in a world of colors far away from pain
I'm not the girl that is constantly trapped inside her own brain

I wander far away in floating fields of cotton
The agony and my blade are long ago forgotten

There is a tugging at my core and I know it's almost time
Her cries pull me back and into her skin I climb.
control is a rich red hue,
control is warm, and deep.
it’s a destructive power,
and a stinging force.
a delicate line
between pain and serenity.

control is a rich red hue,
control tastes metallic.
like a cog in a machine,
and it comes around like clockwork.
a jagged dash
between insanity and knowledge

control is a rich red hue,
control melts like wax.
it evaporates within seconds,
and it dries within moments.
a recalcitrant scratch
between delusion and control
control is the sand dunes left behind once the red lakes dry up.
If my life depended on caring
For even a second
About your fearful, twisted heart
Or the sick, whimpering monster behind your eyes
I wouldn’t make it
 Nov 2018 Allison Wonder
eileen
you keeping looking at me
like I'm someone else

you're going blind
let go of my hand

I dream
impressive dreams on your couch

slept a 5 am
didn't hear you coming in

feels like I'm the chosen one
I hear the earth cry
the trees are falling asleep

am I the only thing on fire
in this freezing winter
You once told me that if you were to end your life, you'd pour chemicals on your car,
On yourself,
And maybe take a couple sips while your at it.

You said you would light that **** on fire and watch the world burn around you.
And I know that if you told that to our society, they would laugh and just say,

"Don't forget to put on your seatbelt."
This one is even a bit darker than usual, so I apologise for that.
The message in this is about how society does not do enough about suicide prevention and mental health.
My friend who suffers from very bad depression had a conversation with me about it and I wrote this.
I haven’t written anything
Not in awhile at least
And for a minute
I think it’s because
I’ve finally lost myself
My creative side at least.
But soon I realize
It’s simply because
I’m happy.
The things I write
Are twisted and depressing
Sometimes too dark
To even represent
My true self.
But they were decent
Some even good
And it makes me miss
Being sad.
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