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I tried to grow, but held on so steadily,
That I burnt my pain in a form of ecstasy.
A drug I took, to release my anger,
Went up in smoke, causing me danger.
And this smoke blurred my vision, got caught in my eyes,
I was incessantly nervous, trying to survive,
Throughout sixteen years worth of trauma, and despise
I reach eighteen, to finally realize,
It wasn’t my fault, and sadly none knew,
What I experienced, and tried to subdue,
And I blamed and blamed myself for it all,
Taking the guilt, and taking the fall,
To find a point in life where I,
Accept in growth, things must die
So the memories had to, despite the pain,
Of walking through a burning flame,
And trying to fight the agonizing burn,
That one must feel, in order to learn.
Feb 25 · 1.7k
Dear World:
The shame gets to me, creeping
                               guilt is killing me slowly, ever so slowly.
                       Bigger, bigger                                   Purging the pain
                  Smaller, smaller,                                         I'm going insane.
              A ring is my net,                                       ******* a gun,
              Shoot me, I ask,                                                 Turning to dust.
                   Smaller to skinny,                             bones into nothing,
                                      I beg you to save me, for death is
                                       creeping slowly, ever so slowly,             
                                            ­            toward me.
A poem about bulimia
Feb 25 · 104
Never Again
Wings clipped completely,
Trauma overtaking me,
I will never fly

Again.
Jan 30 · 254
Drooping Dandelions
Weeping for a sorrowful man
Is weeping for a wilted flower
No amount of water, sunlight, or even love
Will ever bring back its glow.

What you will never understand,
Are these achingly long hours
No amount of worry, care, or even love
Will take away the blow

Through the skull, because life became bland,
And I didn't hold enough power
To care for myself, nor the worry, or even the love
And in due time my true colors flowed.

For weeping for a broken man,
Is like weeping for a dying flower
No amount of water, sunlight, or even love
Will ever make it grow.
Lost my last friend. Life hurts so so much.
Jan 27 · 144
Acceptance
Fingers growing number, a twinge of sadness chokes my soul
Like the cold air of January, I fall deep into its pull.
It takes me on a journey, once before I have gone,
Where warmth's akin to weakness, and deeper I am drawn.
The naive wind for this adventure, whispers through my hair,
But I hope to forget, freezing what's no longer there.
"What was once here?"  The curious cold asked,

"The moment I share it with you, you will long for its grasp.
A comfort that is stolen, is one you'll never miss,
You'll soon forget the warmth, so the longing can't exist.
Rather just adaptation, adjusting to the pain,
And accepting that you will never, ever feel the same,"
It paused in my silence, but began to speak
Louder, its temperature brushing against my cheeks.

"I know your sadness is an attempt to move along,
In fear that a weakness means you can't remain strong.
But I assure you, my sorrow isn't easily forgotten,
Emotions are broken, twisted and knotted,
If I tried to lose one, and carry all the rest,
I'd be stuck and ever tangled with an ache inside my chest.
For pain isn't something one can simply leave,
Instead, we have to bask in it, and accept that we can grieve.
I understand the worry that a broken thought holds,
But to know a warmth, is to acknowledge the cold,"


Maybe it was right, I thought in the snow,
And went right back inside to grab a warm coat.
She touched me. In something so indifferent to maternity,
an inhumane humanity drying me of innocence.
She took my body, now a stranger of skin, and made it
a mess of cells that collide in agony.
Broken, may I say, but a break that'll never heal.
Fingers I can't quite comprehend, lacking dignity wholly.
I hate her. I hate how I still feel her hands on me sometimes,
an immortal grasp at my pride. I hate her.
Jan 6 · 291
A Tapestry of Traumas
This isn't my body. She stripped me of that right when she touched me.
This vessel I possess is proof that maternity can cruelly switch to molestation, and how disheartening the world can become once you meet its evils.
Brutality in the act is only half of it though, the rest is trying to cope with the loss of your own skin.
Not a body, just a brain weighed down by pounds of flesh that became property to an abuser six years ago.
I rarely feel human anymore, and that's if I ever did to begin with.
I am a thing. A thing designed to make other people happy, even if my own health, mental or physical, is compromised in the process.
The process, an activity ranging from starvation to downright ****** abuse. I used to starve sometimes for this woman just so I'd be praised, just so I'd feel worthy of living.
Losing sleep, losing my ******* mind, all for her to facetiously downplay the traumas she consistently constructed.
Carefully orchestrated, a symphony of horrors frequent to my mind, my body.. She stole my own life from me.
A part of me remains within her, and that sadly,
is what hurts the most.
My mother sexually abused me when I was 12, and then when I was 16. It is those parts of my life that I hate the most.
Nov 2020 · 1.4k
It Means Nothing.
Where were you when life dripped off my chin?
Intaking's a sin. You're a sinner.
I can't eat dinner, I'm not hungry.
It means nothing. THIS MEANS NOTHING.
It's the mirror, and it's controlling.
Reloading another bullet for a throat that's decomposing, and
as acid clambered up my mouth, I had quick thoughts of death.
A moment where flesh and bone may rot away the failed flavor,
yet a knotted mass of pain I'll never lose stings today,
gauging my limbs until nothing remains of me.
This pain is an everlasting parasite, and I cannot be saved,
for this nasty sickness is called a brain to me.
Hello. I'm sorry I've barely ever been active on here, and I know that
I've surely lost most of my following but that's okay.
Stay strong.
Mar 2020 · 285
Depression
He's in your brain.
Deception is exhausting. It's haunting your purpose, binded with slow tears streaming your face as you beg him to stop. Empty expressions fill you up, nothing to feel, nothing to say... all you want is one reason to stay, and the world offers otherwise. Pain is inaudible at times, cover your mouth and arms, honey, it'll be all over in a year or so. Months pass with repression til you collapse on the bathroom floor and there's no more you. Remember when you felt something inside you? A light that shined through, no one could change you, and here you are.... Empty. Empty of everything, even your blood as it pools on the tile, no smile, no nothing.. Just something that once was. Something that'll never be again, and wasn't for far too long. Longer than when you left, longer than anyone knew. Somehow you make things even worse than when you were around, people lounge in black, eyes glued to the box you'll never leave, thinking of memories you'll never see as they regret unspoken compliments you'd refuse to believe. In this time, distant friends even cry for you, people will remember this for decades. One small act will change lives forever, couldn't you ever realize this? Open your wrists and you open a door to lost hearts searching for a reason, give them a reason, they need a reason. Notes aren't enough, stains aren't enough, the autopsy isn't enough, they need just one more conversation with you. But you can't give it...
Hey at least he's out of your brain though, right?
I hope you like it.
Nov 2019 · 405
Choking
I provoke my demons, demonstrating
ways they can hurt me and invoke them to do so.
Choking them up, one by one, my fingers draped,
my senses blurred, mind emptied of their
nagging, stomach twisting as I realize what I did.
I watch them swirl, I watch them leave,
and I'm left with their staining guilt again.
Do I hold one strength if all I feel is weakness?
These demons want to win, and I always give in.
I pretend I'm in control until it seeps in;
straining my muscles, I failed again.
Constantly invited to events that
feel cathartic, but borderline insanity.
Emotions are high, devotion renewed,
I was used again.
I threw up again.
Sometimes I make myself throw up.
I'm sorry.
Nov 2019 · 379
Bye.
I'll leave the razor on the floor for you.
There's nothing that could've changed it.
I'm nothing, that's a fact, and I ******* hate it.
I can't be sorry for doing this, it gives me a sense of worth.
A sense of meaning, and that hurts, I'm too far gone now to cease the pain.
Sadness gives me solace, and so do two last cuts, down the middle,
one last time, because scars are not enough.
They were never enough.
Nothing is ever enough for me.
I'm ******* nothing.
No I am not killing myself, but this was a poem I wrote when I felt suicidal
Nov 2019 · 498
Wishing Well
Where were you something so deep, so cold?
Trapped in the wishing well of the untold.
Surrounded by meer memories of my past, I am never to see the present.
Why is it for myself I hold all this resentment?
I'm mad at myself, for I am so weak.
Days are passing and breath feels bleak.
I would always play by that wishing well, never knowing what time would tell.
Jump, climb, try to survive..
Although my inner hopes can barely thrive.
Breathe! Breathe, I'm starting to choke..
I miss my home, I'm so alone, falling deeper into onset misery, setting up my life for catastrophes.
Losing, losing! My humanity; I've sunk deep into my own insanity.
Now I have fallen, now I am gone;
now this wishing well is full of my blood.
I wrote a poem about two years ago, and hated it.
But I went back to it recently and changed it a bit, and here is the outcome. I hope it's good, I don't really know
Nov 2019 · 267
Ocean
I want to slip into the ocean and say goodbye peacefully,
this kind of want isn't something unnatural to me.
The waves so surrounding,
**** my heart is pounding..
I just want to be set free.

From the heart of the waters I'll eventually fade,
there's a war in my brain and it's a ******* crusade.
There's only one remedy,
I need the serenity,
Let me go unscathed.

Let me go unaided.
Set me free; fading.
No more violent thoughts, or
all of the battles I've fought for,
let me have what I've always been chasing.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated.
Nov 2019 · 399
Goodbye mom
Days awake in unwell sleeping patterns,
Mechanical days are flourishing, I've
Kinda wished everything wasn't so fast;
I kinda wish I wasn't alive.
I was taken away within stabilization,
Carried in the means of unstable air.
Bury me, I scream, reassurance is blared,
I open in the truths of holding no care.
I doted on ideations,
Creating my world wielded in shame.
Crested on my darkest demons,
Resting with every ounce of blame.
My molecules are crying out,
"The world uses broken tools"
If only this world understood me,
And the impulsivity of oncoming abuse.
Inside I am an unkempt person,
And days are passing more than I know.
I gifted your works with my happiness,
And it is now time that I let you go.
I can't forgive you but I can
Forgive myself for loving you.
Goodbye mom
My mom isnt a good person and I have to let her go in order to let myself heal
Oct 2019 · 691
Papaver Rhoeas
Postpone your worries and follow me through my imagination,
Act upon your wrongs and fall for their sedations.
Progress runs behind protection, projected
As living when death's deeply invested.
Vibrant red always becomes so much deeper.
Everyone tells me I'll heal but I'm not a believer.  
Relief is when I release it all completely,

Repeating history until it kills me.
Hover losses as shadows watch,
Oh the concern as all hope dislodged,
Evenings now tempt you to
Alleviate them for no longer,
Send me away from here forever.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
Oct 2019 · 340
Sinking.
​I still haven't found land. I steer my crew in circles, drunken and adventurous, hoping they never see how hopeless I am. I cannot handle this power without something powering me; I cannot see straight and somehow that's less blinding than my own doubts. Than my insecurities, and pain I deal with. I'm afraid their trust will decimate, that this ship will sink. Far down, far away. I dream of the clouds being an island to me. A home. Familiarities I rarely feel in these murky, vast waters. I've let my thoughts wander.. farther than I should have. Do you blame me? I always knew my life held a bitter end. A small fight before the ocean enthralls me once more, capturing me, and I sink. Lower than I ever have. Losing my life to the very thing that kept me from living-
I hope yall like this one. there was a lot of pain and thought put into it.
all feedback is welcome and appreciated
Aug 2019 · 1.3k
boo fucking hoo.
your brain, darling. what happened to it?
I remember when we once were fine.
but blood has left your body, boy.
you've got a broken heart and ****** up mind.
but why? what made your thoughts blank out?
and what caused each emotion to disappear?
was it mommy? you can tell me.
after all, she's not even here.
she left you, boy. she's not returning.
I know it hurts. but it's certainly true.
was it addiction? or was it her freedom?
what trapped her more? her problems, or you?
onto all of this, did you ever try?
you wake up to sadness, that's all that you give.
im so ******* sorry that everyone leaves you,
but it's no shock when you act like a kid.
moral of the story? don't ******* be you.
I hate how you act, I hate when you breathe.
just go ******* cry and tell yourself that you're nothing,
until that's all your ******* heart can perceive.
im so sorry for how depressing this is. recently my mom has... left lol. ive been moved from my home, to live with my dad, who's great although I haven't been around him much in my life. my mom has issues. she's not a good mom. im honestly scared of her, and she's made me feel like **** for years. she's recently told me in a text "boo ******* hoo" so that's why I chose that title. im not looking for pity or apologies, or attention. im just venting and giving an explanation for this poem.
all feedback is welcomed and appreciated
Jul 2019 · 505
Fight or Flight
somehow I don't believe you,
don't go out... its harder to go through..
be a mess,
take the fight,
and hate the world.
my time is overdue,
I've done nothing to show to you.
life taught me flight,
so goodbye,
I hate the world.

if moments... could show us
a good time,
then maybe
my mind
would change.
but moments,
waste moments
of good times.
and maybe,
I've lost my mind
yeah I haven't written in a long time and I know this isn't too good but im trying.
all feedback is welcome and appreciated
May 2019 · 316
Guilt
send my mind away to the crows.
their ****** will grow and feed off my guilt,  there's no will in a way of destruction and pain. so much hate in my brain my heart takes the thrill. if it was a trip then I'm overdue, if it's all was my fault then my fall out is true, there is no point for my doubts to break through, as though I'd thought I could outlive the moon,
look . . . . the birds are resting just a few miles away,
I hooked . . . . my thoughts to a line that could go either way,
breathe . . . .  and yet all it releases are thoughts of unease,
saved . . . . thousands of worries I hope would be freed.
and yet all I've learned is livid souls can't survive, and there's more impulsive acts due to pain in the night, as if when the sun goes down we run out of reason, and the darkness within us becomes more alive.
if in the time being, the pain is still eaten, am I a free man or a one within treason?
if the joy that I get is from moments of numbness,
have I received it or faked my own freedom?
be honest....
this is all I've written for a few weeks. i know it isn't that good but life has been really hard lately so I tried my best.
all feedback is welcome and appreciated
Apr 2019 · 268
Soot
as each memory burned deeply in me, I knew
they'd be stuck there forever. forever in my mind, smoking and smothering me. I'm still rubbing soot off my skin and hoping it won't stick again. the past is over and yet, when I get scared it's all the same. stop, drop, and roll. sometimes I'll cover my face as I cry and hope my tears will be enough to put out the flames. the doorknob feels hot... so don't ask why I don't come out. i still feel it. the fire's still there. still burning in the back of my mind, and I'll always take precautions before trying. just trying to live. but how am I meant to when my past keeps burning me alive?
I'm so sorry for not posting in so long. my mental health has gone so low lately I can't even think to write. I don't even know what the **** I'm doing anymore. life is pointless
Feb 2019 · 1.0k
Apathy
I stand alone with my shadow,
Developing larger on the floor.
Voices are heightened in these loosened hours,
I can feel my failures outside my door.
For is it fair to live in fear,
Consistently dreading numbed durations?
I still sense the pain of things that won't adhere,
And uneasy twinges of deserted sensations.
My apathy is back and it has worsened,
My eyes have widened because I know what comes next.
The flood of my trauma ends lack of emotion,
drowning me, sending me straight to my death-
I have felt apathy my whole life

I feel so much I push it out of my head so I don't die.
I feel too much and itsit's horrible.
I feel numbed most days now to try and deal with it
Feb 2019 · 3.3k
Underwater
I plugged my nose and went underwater.
I'm confusing life and death with a thin line.
I lose myself, and soon find another,
Out a sink drain with darkness in its spine.
The last one is more afraid of the next I own,
I can't tell who'll take my heart.
Make it or break it, and I certainly broke
Mine as it got harder to locate in the dark.
The water has bubbled up into my throat,
Its silky and warm and I cannot resist.
I thought I was better, but I hate to boast,
I had just hoped I'd never end up like this-
I hope I haven't posted this before.
I haven't been myself lately and I'm sorry.
I'm sorry to everyone and everything
Dec 2018 · 1.3k
Match
If I'm worth the fight,
then I can take a hit.
It isn't whether I win,
it's if I refuse to quit.
That's funny, because just wait,
for about 24 hours.
Where I'll gain the tremors,
but lose uncertain power.
An inner conflict is my battle,
but one I don't think ends.
Should I be authentically useless?
There's a home I could transcend.
I could ascend upon my limits,
I'm a king to every kind of thinking.
I control my darkness,
in the rapid form of blinking.
Open, close, open, close,
My fists could match the sides.
They're knocking on my skull,
of course I'm gonna abide.
I lost purpose when I dropped value,
when nothing stopped me from the pain.
if all I give to the world is anger,
why shouldn't I receive the same??
---------------------------------------------
I relapsed again, I hate myself.
Punched a wall so hard I instantly bruised my knuckles.
Pulled out a patch of my hair.
Made my leg blue from hitting it so hard.
I feel like I deserve this.
And is my thought differing from the truth?
I don't think so.
Keep living, y'all.
I'll do the same.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated.
Dec 2018 · 5.1k
Vial
his rugged eyes tore his soul,
desperate for a break.
He likes the poison it drips off,
more desperate for its intake.
He seems.... hungry..
but it's not only lack of food.
It's the distance he walks between who he is,
and how he's really viewed.
He acts angry, and he is,
but it's at that part he can't obey.
It keeps ripping up his notes,
so that his real words can never stay.
So he doesn't have thoughts of his own,
or a body, and around his neck?
A vial that keeps getting tighter,
seeping chemicals within to cause regret-
i haven't been on here in FOREVER so I'm sorry, lol. I relapsed and these last few weeks have been tough, to the point where I couldn't write without getting really low inside my head. Anyway, i appreciate all the support I've been getting
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
Nov 2018 · 754
'No Road Ahead'
His cement touch grasped my lungs,
cracking down on the system we had made.
My mind is not quiet until it is numb,
compacting a road for old memories' sake.
This ground takes place in the back of my head,
the gravel makes bumps I always displace.
No one will come; calling 'No Road Ahead'
I am lost in this part for most of my days.
The colder it is, the more likely I'll freeze,
keep driving this way to try and find home.
Frozen in time, I don't know the ease,
between what is 'home' and a house no one knows.
I isolated my heart from the world because nobody cares,
it is worthless to think of myself with emotion.
I'd rather continue just driving this way,
and force myself to keep going through the motions-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
Nov 2018 · 1.4k
Mind
I think I lost my mind,
Between finding myself
And letting parts go that
I'm not sure of anymore.
I needed the strength to bind
My brain together, but what's left
Isn't enough, and getting it back
Is leaving my heart sore.
Friends are slipping away,
Because I do not have control
Over what I do, or if I talk
About the pressure of being myself.
Sad thing is, I'm losing more each day,
The war opened up my soul,
I knew I was not
Normal since I met this hollow desk,
And my mind worked itself away-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
Oct 2018 · 2.0k
Train Tracks
We have incentive to collect our fears,
replace them with hope in the incoming years.
But we tie them off and leave them alone;
stash them away in the deepest parts of our bones.
Stamp them in blood, or tears we forgot,
switch off the trauma and train of our thoughts.
The tracks mail letters, to the backs of our minds;
a land unknown from the depth of our blinds.
I promise you, this ill way of thinking,
doesn't solve the problem, nor help it sink in.
Someone will find them,
somehow deny them,
for the points you could've made;
and the pain you couldn't take-
I feel like pain, or trauma gets invalidated when we don't speak up about it immediately. I also feel like it also gets invalidated if people don't get it; I feel like i tend to hide my pain in fear of laughter.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated.
Oct 2018 · 847
Effected
If you'd notice, you could see the way he lost his mind,
shattered on the tile floor he donates to. The coats of bandages
that soaked right through. You can feel the lack thereof in effort;
and I'm not saying you should be the one to save him, or that it's
your fault, all I'm saying is that the signs were there,
and you didn't notice for the sake of "I'm doing better now."
Maybe we become denial, or numb to the stone cold facts in
front of us. We shouldn't side with anger because it's easier;
rather lend a hand to someone lower than us in the hopes
you'll raise the rock-bottom people and awareness that this
effects more than obviously-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!

I feel like we should check up on our friends, and lend a hand, whether they say they're okay or not. Offer help and just a friends,it can do wonders.
Oct 2018 · 1.0k
Mediums
It's a constant battle.
I'm finding shells on my floor,
and a flood of defeat.
They got me again.
They tore up my flag;
and flattened my heart that scoped out nonsense.
I'm getting into fist fights with the mirror.
This world doesn't matter to me.
My bleeding nose and horrid mind are too naive for you to think that I am free;
breaching a shadow too small to cover me.
Mediums hover me,
and you call to connect with me.
Against my brain;
and induced will.
Against reality to assist a thrill-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
Oct 2018 · 7.8k
Nothing
I'm not staying,
it's my blame.
I'll leave the innocent;
I'm not the same.
I've got blood on my hands.
Pressure to understand.
You're right.
You've always been.
I tend to forget.
I won't bother you,
still my existence bothers me.
My mind smothers me.
The nights scare me;
comfort is scarce.
The dark makes things worse,
and this silence hurts.
It can be so loud,
the noise of nothing.
The sounds of your thoughts,
utterly isolated.
I love y'all;
but I don't love myself
I can't live up to what you all think of me-
all feedback is welcome and appreciated!
Oct 2018 · 2.0k
Cars
My visuals are out to get me,
Drive in front and claim the safety.
Pull a map and divise a route,
To keep me from my- too loud. too loud.
You take the wheel,
I'll fake a path.
The road divides us
From future and past.
I wanna drive back,
until then i will roam.
the seats of tanned memories,
remind me of home-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
Oct 2018 · 1.5k
Reconnect
I'm emotionally detached,
in twenty nine days ninety panic attacks,
I see through your eyes,
straight to your past,
the times that you meant it when you really laughed.
Your crescents hate light,
and descend through the day,
I'm deciding my mind between painful and sane,
dividing a line between not okay and opaque.
I know my life's doubtful,
more mournful than most.
Lost in translation as feeling the least,
a leash on my brain and one sense of release.
I wanna meet sharpness to puncture my breath,
rather than losses I can't reconnect-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated

This poem is about how unattached I am from myself. I hope it makes sense
Oct 2018 · 4.2k
Balance
If I could mount that rock to my forehead,
the demons I'm fighting would finally go.
I know the risks of one last blow.
Visibility is prevented from me, by me, divided.
I choose sadness because it was all i ever felt.
This plateau of emotion will eventually
**** me-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
Oct 2018 · 426
Privated Attics
The attic attacks me, won't back
me up in fights with my heart.
Dust will conclude how long I've
been afraid, cleaned for the
dusk; I don't know my name.
Wading in rivers for its own trade,
confront the buyer at higher
stakes than the owner, lower I fall.
"Tone down the pain" mediocre
control over what I am and
what I will become, my thumbs
pricked for another accusation.
I'll discuss my problems only the
world can understand, privated
and classified; I am just a man.
I am just a boy, and these passages
aren't used to show how much
better I've gotten, only if I say I do.
These words and all the strings
of things I can collect, are something
much more deep than you'll ever comprehend.
you believe I am recovering,
because that's all you're allowed to see.
Can't you sense the great dispense
that one day I'll look up from your feet?
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
Oct 2018 · 650
Pause
I'm really not who I thought I was,
how do you move on with life
when you place it to pause?
I am the boss to my own mind,
but cower at each door it confines,
to condone the person I could be and
wrong the person I wish I was,
I'm the boss of my own mind
but a slave to what it does.
Died to a coward that
hides behind demands,
and the density of this reality is
what weighs my bones down,
some of you know what this is now.
What it means to be shackled
to what you hate,
here have a go at the scariest
things your head can make.
The thoughts that break
your heart but tell it to go
faster,
faster,
faster....
Running after something
you'll never reach,
and as I'm running forever
I can't move my feet
off this bed,
inside my head I'm growing tired,
so my eyes will never open;
and I'm hoping you know that I fear
when I get older my memories will wake
and it'll take me,
too late to save me.
Why bother even
waiting?
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
Oct 2018 · 2.5k
Burn
His fingertips are doused in gasoline,
setting fire to everything he sees.
Each object he touches,
all the memories collected,
ash away and fall to crimes.
He's got eternal flames inside him,
and yet his eyes remain dimmed and submissive.
He's fragile and fractured,
and as his last heart string crackled,
you could see the hope unlit.
Fires and unsettling demons
are all he even seems to remember.
He might try and set his body ablaze,
to calmly dry off that crying pain,
sadly sticks and stones withhold his embers.
He won't die, but he can't learn,
the anguish manipulated to feed a burn.
His life was hanging in a balance of dry anger,
rather the deployment of washing hurt again,
he thought would dehydrate its annual return-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
Aug 2018 · 236
Pines
Pines littered my unlively heart, once a rooted place; with branches of family, sprouts nothing more than unwanted pain.
Trees filtered the rain and hale, marching upon my veins; leaves wither now, roaming a terrain of deserts and unanswered lies.
Tumbleweeds, each one of a kind, bellow in the wind that dried my brain, refraining the saplings from hope, holes built in my body for no other process than causing emptiness, a sense of memory that was once before.
Not anymore, I feel nothing.
I do nothing.
I am nothing.
I'm inhumane, unwillingly walking to the past; lurking from the windows, one broken and one stained, I know now that my hurt was never tamed.
It just laid,  pulsing through my feet; hiding as I am now, you hear a sound from outside, a purposeful blow from the wind.
There goes my brain.
There goes my pain.
Goodbye-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
Aug 2018 · 1.3k
Deck
He slipped too many times for it to be accidental,
Gurgling underwater; and sinking from the vessel.
He too, had supplied the deaths aboard the deck,
Where drowning and breath paddled; all atop his neck.
Do you know his struggle, until you've met the sea?
Where fish swim past on their way, and you clamber just to breathe.
Sputtering on bubbles, his exhaling's a crusade,
But please don't feel bad for him, that's just an average day-
All feedback is welcome and appreciate!!:)
Aug 2018 · 1.0k
Confiscating; Comtemplating
He's not what you think,
And he pretends you know.
The more he confiscates the worry,
The more it seems to show.
He's walking around the lies,
As they pile against his skin.
So at night; he'll break the doors,
And flood out what's within.
Pressing the lock into his throat,
He glides the key straight to his heart.
Stop the plane in his head,
Before it can depart.
He's convinced this plain is unwelcome,
Underlying a helpless glow.
This seed planted inside him,
fixes fears no one truly knows-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
Aug 2018 · 1.6k
Princes and Poison
A kingdom built on his guilt,
You'll watch his eyes slowly tilt.
Breaking under the pressure,
His pain is difficult to measure,
Do you know his heart lays still?

Pupils with shards of darkness,
And a quill profusely sharpened.
I think he missed the target,
With his soul from black to scarlet,
As it dripped atop the marble.

He doused his hands in cyanide,
To try and disintegrate his pride.
And sadly, all his colors went,
Along his shaking final breath,
He's grey and aching inside-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!!
Jul 2018 · 47.4k
(Quick)Sandcastles
He was the ocean; handsome, but yet, Impulsively damaged. He had a sandy heart to correspond his sandy eyes, the moon dismantled that omitted pride he carried at a dead weight; shoveling and reshaping it, so people would see a sandcastle statue assembled in strength. But his washed-up soul and unannounced insecurities were aware of its genuine purpose,
this beach alongside his pupils;
quicksand, he'll sink so slowly in.  Waves in his hair like ripples on his cheeks, skipping stones land at his defeat, he left notes in bottles for you, sank multiple ships for you, because he hasn't the heart to say he's desiccating with the arrival of the stars.. Retracting scars are not too far from gasps for air,  foaming words of crisis by writing in the sand, signaling a light as the last one in him died. You wouldn't understand, the calm before the storm, as valve after valve puncture him. So intoxicating as it drains him, and from within, he's drying out. Sunburns stain him, a smile restrains him,
in an inescapable drought--
All feedback is welcome
So this was posted here a couple weeks ago and, when I went to revise it, it was drafted and came out as new, I guess? :)
Jul 2018 · 20.6k
Carnations
I clash into my fabric,
Like it's the waters of a bath.
Behold the ripples from my fingers,
Before I walked upon their path.
Pills are skipping stones,
That land at unsteady feet.
I'm falling, or I'm drowning,
Sleeping with torture underneath.
With Carnations at the bedside,
The yellow won't change my hue.
For their inexplicit meanings,
Are wrapped in dripping blue.
And the taps rung through my head,
Were the bath; now forming puddles.
You asked how I had left,
But you didn't notice the bubbles
---------------------------------------------------
This poem is about how people don't notice when others are hurt. They could feel like they're drowning, struggling to breathe, even if they're in bed, doing nothing.
(Btw yallow carnations symbolize disappointment; rejection, just if it's confusing)
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!!:):)
©2018
Jul 2018 · 11.6k
Filtered Pain
With bamboo husks scattered,
My last bones shattered.
We mourn a loss of bliss,
Draped in fear learnt to dismiss,
I call for all to gather.

The stalks once in my heart,
Intertwined; and broke apart.
I never knew how weak I'd gotten,
As my glacial mind defrosted,
And from within; resilience departed.

My thoughts cannot grow,
Pierced by what I do not know.
I'm getting colder,
I am not a soldier,
I'm a victim to the blow.

As the last bit of me was hollowed out,
I spoke the words of hope through my mouth:
"I will learn to accept the pain,
Rather than soaking it in my veins,
I'll filter it to the ground."
--------------------------------------
I've been looking up what things symbolize feelings, and I've been so excited to write with them.
Apparently, (as far as I've read) bamboo is a symbol of strength in China. I just feel like weakness is such a common emotion, and it takes so much to grow out of.
I hope this isn't confusing.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!!:):)
Jul 2018 · 5.2k
Swallows
I will go where the swallows go,
following orange sunsets and
amber wings.
I will search for bottled letters,
written in the dawn of future,
for something more than bottomless worry.
I will go where the swallows go,
sleeping in the marshes' hollow,
I only hope for tomorrow.
My lungs may burst as I cover my nose and mouth,
I give my strength to the waters now.
With its will; I could too, learn to fly.
I will go where the swallows go,
because where they lead, I do not
know, but it's something better than here;
a being to cease my
fear--
Swallows are a meaning of love/hope
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
Jul 2018 · 5.5k
Moths and Crows
Dirt crumbled at my feet, as moths finish off my sleep. My whole skull is uncovered, unconcerned with greener leaves.

Will this comfort ever stay? I'm losing hope as it decays. Decorate my heart with iris, because its carcass has faded grey.

Lace my body for the crows; nest my ribs, and clean my bones. Residue of torture palpitates, from within its catacombs.

Who knows when winter will come, so freeze your lungs until they're numb. Because breathing isn't worth this turmoil, and I think the dark swallowed your Sun----
All feedback is welcome and appreciated :)
Jul 2018 · 10.3k
Evacuations; Evaluations
Writer's block again,
and from return; my heart descends.
A knock, at the door?
What are they here for?
Hiding in the floors, the deaths
of my enemies,
a funeral of my thoughts,
and they were meant to stay away.
Yet you wished them here,
just so you can write them.
And they want you near,
so you can recite them.
Insightful, isn't it?
You need to invite them in,
and this time; they'll only stay
for the titles and poetry, no.
You're much too confident
that you can kick them out,
you need them;
and they want you.
Next evacuation;
hopefully you'll choose
yourself,
but we know you never
do-
I kick out my demons, and they get back in every time. I hate it.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
Jul 2018 · 1.4k
Mutated
We grab our blades,
and go to war.
You cut me up,
and I cut you more.
I beat your arms,
while you flood my head.
**** out your words,
and I drown instead.
Yet you've no bruises,
mine are as dim as night.
They say it's just darkness,
but they can't see your eyes.
You mutate reality,
and I only help.
"Can I get better?"
I say; and, farewell--
It's like my demon and I fighting, you know?
Idk, I'm weird.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated
Jul 2018 · 278
Memoir To Who?
Affable laughs glide on his throat,
they believe he's fine even if he won't.
Timidly shaking, he's achingly happy,
draining himself just to descend to the concrete,
he eternally casts his eyes with a sapphire glow.

Leave him on the sidewalk,
they move on; but he's not.
Marigold grows from his chest,
but all they see is Narcissus,
he lived very little; though it felt like a lot.

Orange was his heart,
watered from the counterparts.
Puddled with the anguish,
eventually it vanished,
I know it's quite bazaar;

but honestly,
that's his better days
by far--
I hope this isn't too confusing.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated! :):)
Jul 2018 · 192
Mapless
I'm a poignant addict. Mapless, speckled floors
and uneasy voices are all I find. I'm vulnerable with the
concerning looks, and I promised I'd tell the truth this time.
Yet helplessness reached me, and hopelessly seized me, how
good can my breath be, if all it does is burn me? Words hurt
my heart, and convinced me it shouldn't be beating. The same
old ceiling won't see me sleeping. How good can life be, if it
wants to **** me?
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
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