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I can’t stop asking.
How could I not ask questions?
I don’t have answers.
The pain seeps deep into my bones
The sharp nails scratch at my mind
Taunting me
Torturing me
I don’t even understand what I can’t escape
My soul screams
Who have I become?
Why am I here?
Am I truly real?
Or is this all just an illusion
I will never be able to awaken from
I shake and try to piece things together
But everytime my mind sinks in too deep, my lungs begin to suffocate
And my hands start to sweat
How I hate being left to myself, it seems I can never be alone to think
I’m exhausted
Make. It. Stop.
I’m not sure if this even makes sense to anyone, but right now this makes perfect sense to me.
  Mar 11 Screaming-Tides
Sometimes they crash down and the waves take me with them.
Like a tsunami, it’s unexpected.
You usually know the signs, but once it starts, there’s no changing it.
There’s no going back, it’s not a choice.
It’s just a deadly fight against nature and water and time...
I always come up for air before it’s too late, but with my eyes closed, I don’t know up from down.
Am I plunging into the depths or rising towards the horizon?
I don’t know...
I’m just swimming.
  Mar 11 Screaming-Tides
What’s my worth?
Am I as bad as I think?
Am I as good as they say?
  Mar 11 Screaming-Tides
too many words. too fast. hard to explain. hard to understand. I have so much art and so little time. so much pain and not enough rhyme. i’m running from reason and dwelling on regret.
Detatchment and wishing illusions
I morph into different people to distance from myself
When I truly return inside the rage is blinding
The loathing is unimaginable
Twisted vines with thorns wrap themselves around my lungs, suffocating me and digging into me ever so deeply
The demons tug at my legs, their strength gradually increasing enough to bring me to the floor
I long to scratch myself up as they wish, as I deserve, until they allow me to jump out of my own skin
I long for my soul to be heard
My true self isn't enough, it's infuriating
They have taught me that time and time again
What a pity it is, you silly little girl
Do you really think this torture will stop
When it's all
You are built for
  Jan 21 Screaming-Tides
My head wanders through the clouds,
But time still passes.
I can distract myself
And try to avoid life.
But it’s inevitable,
Someone will always yank me back down.
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