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Owen Mar 2020
To everyone in my life that I have said,
"I love you"
I meant it.

But only you
have made me love myself.
Made me feel like gold.
And for that,
I will give you the world,
and all that I hold dear.
Owen Mar 2020
The endless search
for what we're missing
in life.
Never feeling whole.
Like we can't start living till we find that piece of our puzzle.
In a world of people so complete.
Being so fractured,
so tortured
ensuing insecurity,
hating ourselves.
Frustration.
Anxiety at war with reason.
How can we love,
with everything we are,
if we're not all there.

Maybe you are my missing piece.
Maybe you will help me to start
living.
I just gotta be
all in.
Owen Mar 2020
Joy.
Fear.
Sadness.
Everything inbetween.
States of being.
Reactions to actions
Physical.
Described by synonym, and symptom.
What is all this?
Chemicals.
That's our reality really.
Perception and chemistry.
Driving existence.
Being alive.
I just wanna define
how I feel.
Sad-adjective
1. feeling or showing sorrow; unhappy.

Happy- adjective
1. feeling or showing pleasure or contentment.

Scared- adjective
1.fearful; frightened
Owen Mar 2020
And the world stared,
as another man passed
before his time.
Owen Mar 2020
The call at 2am.
Hairs stood on end.
The butterflies that fall
dead like stones
in the pit of your stomach.
Cold sweat.
The hot shower
can't dispell the chill in your bones.
You freeze,
breaths like a gale in your ears,
while your heart's sporadic pounding
tells you you're running.
Run.    Run.    Run.   Run.   Run.

Run.
Owen Mar 2020
The dappled beams that fall through the leaves of a cedar tree.
You are everything to me.
The bright rays that gently seep through my skin to warm my blood.
You are the light of my life.
The soft glow of the moon and the delicate stars, pinpricks of sadness and beauty.
You guide me on my darkest nights.
Through the unknown.
Your luminous eyes, so lucid and ardent, trance me.
I never knew
but I was blind before you.
Owen Feb 2020
I remember the first time
I wanted to die.
Considered the verb,
the method,
the option.
I was seven years old
and my life was already over
in my head.
By nine years of age,
I saw the means by which to end it all.
Every vehicle flying down the street,  rushing rivers,
hilltop cliffs,
pocket knives.
At 11,
I was committed,
13,
I'd tried,
I died again,
and again,
everyday I survived,
never living.
14, 15, 16,
Nothing,

Nothing,

Nothing,

This purgatory had to cease.
Being a specter
somehow, someway, just searching
for peace
in the ground.
Better yet
let me help grow a tree,
so my life could be good for one thing.
17
I'm almost there.
Nearly withered away.
I've spent all my years
held in all my tears
rid all my fears.
How dare they say
I'm not all grown up.
Let me go.
This was a decade of me, enjoy.
Every time I hear of a young person passing by there own means it stabs me in the heart. I see myself in them and I remember exactly how it felt to feel everything and nothing, so much nothing. I wish I could speak to every person dealing with suicidal thoughts. I want to reach them and  show them that they are not alone. Life is always changing and it is worth sticking around for when it changes for the better.
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