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That dark boy in the back of the class
Always drawing his feelings away
But over time his sharp pencil dulled,
He didn't feel the strength to draw anymore
So his drawings got sadder, darker
He felt the pencil was worthless eventually,
And threw his pencil away.
Though this story may be true,
**What if I told you, the pencil was himself too?
I wrote this as a metaphor to my cousin's suicide, he drew a lot.
R.I.P Daniel Bryan Michael Sawers
  Jun 20 Jeniffer Bermudez
He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come
That's how true poetry comes into existence
  Apr 15 Jeniffer Bermudez
How can someone love me if I'm too broken?
If my scars are visible and ugly
If I keep too many secrets unspoken
And my heart is always unhappy

How can someone love me if I'm shattered?
I am a hard puzzle you can't ever solve
The pieces of me are scattered
And i am difficult to dissolve

How can someone love me if I don't even love myself?
If I'm the one who sends trouble
If I'm like an old book stock in a shelf
And a boring girl who doesn't go out from her bubble

So how can someone love me if I'm locked up in a cage
And too broken like a crumpled page.
I like poetry
Like a painter likes art
While they make brush strokes
I stand up and try to evoke
I can’t paint a picture with a brush
But I sure as hell can with words
For instance
Some of the most beautiful things
Come from sadness
I’ve seen Poets hold back tears
When talking about lost lovers
I’ve met vagabonds who run
From state to state looking for
A place to call home
I’ve held my baby brother and sister
In my arms while I smile to myself
Knowing that they will have a better
Future than me.
I put these thoughts into poems
Because we use feelings to create
It doesn’t matter if it’s
Poetry, photography or painting
We all have an escape
My favorite artist killed himself
At the age of 29
His only escape
Consisted of starry nights
Wandering in wheat fields
And painting the man he wishes
He could be
Not realizing he had
All of the time in the world
To find his happiness
But It didn’t take much time
For the bullet to enter his chest
Lead penetrating his heart
Where his passion should be
His last words were
The Sadness will last forever
And it does
It feels like an eternity
When depression is clawing your back
Leaving you bruised and scarred
When anxiety comes crawling back
Leaving you broken and breathless
Realizing the person you once were
Is no longer the person you truly are
You’re not the same kid
That your single mother raised
Working night shifts at bars
Where people were shot in cold blood
Because my father decided
That leaving a 19-year-old woman
With a newborn was a good idea
You’re not the same teenager who prayed
To a god every night and ended up
Being even more alone than before
I don’t believe in hell
But if it’s real then I’m already living in it
You soon begin to realize
That life doesn’t owe you anything
So you try to make the best of it
Even when you’re dying inside
Because life is about memoires
Sometimes you have to stop and smell the roses
Watch the sunset and sunrise
You have to travel to the places
You dreamed of seeing as a kid
To remember the innocence
Fall in love with someone that
Leaves a fire in your chest
That cannot be extinguished
Because for once
Waking up will be okay
If they’re in your arms
Learn to live your own life
Before you teach somebody else
How to live theirs
Learn to love yourself
Learn to live freely
And don’t be afraid to explore
You have to be lost
To eventually find where
You belong anyway
So don’t rush to your destination
There’s so much to see along the way
This was inspired by the Vincent Van Gogh painting, "Wheatfield with Crows." The last painting he painted before committing suicide.
1.  I don’t believe in ghosts
    But to her, I've become one.

2. The scars on our skin
    Tell the stories we could
    Never tell.

3. You don’t have to be a
    Millionaire to be rich at heart.

4. To love yourself
    Is to wear your
    Skin proudly.

5. I could write a book
    Filled with questions
    That I will never get
    The answers to.

6. When I die, I hope
    My deathbed is comfortable
    Because, I want to rest in peace.
Some ideas I never got around to working on. Enjoy.
I always wanted to live
A life worth living
But I feel myself
Following in your
I denied the possibility
Of being diagnosed
With depression
I always allowed
Breathing room from
Anxiety attacks
But my insecurities
Swallowed me
Leaving just a shadow
Of who I used to be
Rain graces my hair
small droplets from the air

life to the world
released when clouds have swirled

we may find asylum once again
in the clouds that block

the sun from all that's been
keeping misery's stock

we may all find change
in this world so strange

perhaps for the better
or merely an unwanted letter
It's been raining a lot recently! (yay!) and lots of people from my past have been reaching out to me.

Also I've been chilling in the rain a lot lately
(I'm sad that it has to end soon :( )


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