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 May 2016 The Broken Poet
scully
i have wasted so much paper for you
i have told strangers things i haven't thought about telling you
i have written poetry like
its a cheap substitute for therapy
and i've held the pencil so hard the lead breaks
when my hands shake too much to keep going
i have gone to all of these great lengths
i have written epics about the way you left me
i have written sonnets about how you came back
ive never shown you any of this in fear you will see how my handwriting slowly deteriorates into shaky lines and abstract complaints
in fear that you will make the connection that i havent spent one day free of you since we met
i feel like i have so much to say
and maybe im an expert on beating around the bush
or maybe you're just too self absorbed to hear me
i have tried every way to encrypt my words and say them without letting their meaning sink into your skin
ive got enough for a novel but i havent made my point
i love you
stop hurting me
okay, now im done.
 Apr 2016 The Broken Poet
Izzy
Depression is...
Drowning but watching everyone breathe
Playing hide and go seek; never to be found
Acting; but not for a play
Depression is me losing my mind behind closed doors
Depression is digging my grave
I have become depression,
**You're next...
My confusion troubles me
My wondering depresses me
And my knowledge grows heavily
And the icing on that cake is everything I hate about me
I have been thinking about what truly troubles and depresses me, and the heaviness upon me that grows.
This is nothing but another depressed soul

Typing away all that I know

See I've been months clean

But there is things unseen

A smile that is fake

A laugh they can't take

Beneath it all something I couldn't take
 Feb 2016 The Broken Poet
Brandi
The roof is leaking.
You hear each drop of water hit the ***.

In the room distant you here a girl crying,
but you don't understand why.

What the hell is wrong with her?
She must be nuts like the rest of the family.

You venture into her room and peak around the corner.
She has a piece of broken glass in her hand,
And she is scratching her arm.

Drawing blood.

Her baby brother is in the other room, crying.

Her parent's are in the basement, partying.

*It ***** when you have to grow up so fast, when you are only so young.
I was too young to hate, falling asleep afraid, my dreams never stayed straight, they contorted and they twisted, then the monsters would come and visit,I'd blink and appear in an asylum, hugging the walls in the dark it starts, I'd only be able to hear them, no light and I could never see any windows to know if it was day or night but hearing the sounds would make me take dirt and push it in my eyes to banish my sight, I start to hear the footsteps as they circled around me so I'd stand still in hopes they couldn't hear me but they would mimic my families voices so I couldn't help but reach out and that's when I'd feel something dry and slimy, I'd scream as I notice its loose skin that I'm touching and the tears would wash out the dirt and leave my eyes blurry and grimy, a labyrinth of horrors separated me from the world and my sanity, locked away with the worst things my imagination could conjure, I'd wake up to my parents shaking me and yelling to snap out of it but I'd only see shadows and something separating the head from my fathers shoulders, as a child my sanity was very narrow, nothings worse than trying to sleep at night but instead you see a man sever the leg to your mother then trying to **** out all the bone marrow, I couldn't escape, and every day for so many years I had to suffer at night whenever the black curtains would fall and suffocate, I was too young when I learned to hate, I hated to be me when I wasn't me and I hated to be seen when it wasn't really me, that's when i learned what it was like to be your worst enemy, before I was eight I already felt like I was one big error, I would stay up late but my eyes would fall and my dreams would terminate as I fell into another night terror.
I hate that you hate me.
I hate that I cant be what you want.
I hate that you don't realize the pain you cause me.
I hate that you pretend that we are a perfect family.
I hate that you laugh everything off and never listen to me.
I hate the way you make me feel.

Why is it we cant choose our family?
Why do we have to learn to love them?
Why cant we choose them like we do our friends?

I cant love someone who doesn't love me.

I ****. You said it yourself.

I hate that you pretend that you didn't say it.
I hate that you dont feel guilty for being a bad parent.

What about me?
What about my happiness?
What about my life?

I hate that you don't listen to me, or accept who I am.
Because it makes it even harder for me to do that when my own mother cant.

So stop thinking about yourself.
And realize that your daughter needs help.

Im suicidal and you cant even tell.
What does that say about how much you care?
Or how much you even love me?


**Do you even love me?
A mother
An idol
One for everyone

Why don't I have one
She's the reason
I was born
but
that's it
You don't love me
Have you the smallest idea
what I do to myself?
No you don't
You're the reason I do it
But you don't even know
Some mother
you are
The lies
The pain
The agony you cause me
yet you don't know

You pick your friends
Not your family
Why was I
Stuck with you?
Did I do something
To deserve this?
Well I am paying for it

You tell me I ****
I'm not worth it
just leave

Maybe those words hurt
But you
you wouldn't know

You may be my parental Figure
but you will never
ever
be my mom
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