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I think that I shall never see
A leaf as lovely without a tree
When it falls upon the ground
So gently placed to be found.
A child gathers it in her hands
Carefully places it on the sands
Hoping to grow a brand new tree
For all the world new life to see.
The last four lines had many interruptions (5 year old). Changed direction at least three times. Could not remember where it was going. The child was driving this one.
ripped apart
limb by limb
shattering bone
heart caving in

self mutilation
scar after scar
empty and hollow
torn through this war
i'll never know
when my heart will blast
i'll let out my words
but the happiness won't last

it'll get bad again
worse than before
i'll go to my room
and lock the door

when the darkness
sorrounds me
i'll know im alone
silver turns red
my thoughts are thrown

they're gone for a while
i'm happy again
but will it last
no it's still here
haunting me
tearing me apart
and changing who i am

**(c.m.h)
Too many voices in my head
Too much silence while laying in my bed.
Never open my mouth, but I say a million words
Dying only to be called a coward

Buried 6 feet under ground
But I can still hear every sound
All the words you used to hurt me
Won't let me break free

I'll arrive at night dressed in all white
I'll be ready to fight
And I don't know if I will survive
I just know that I have to win this fight.

I've got to fight the demons that are inside of me!
I see them clasping each other's hand,
planted on a wooden bench,
head on shoulder,
and carving a smile at the winter clouds.

They hold each other's embrace in the chilly flurry of air,
their eyes shut,
seizing the moment,
and allowing their hearts to slowly, but surely entwine with one another.

I gaze at them, longing for what they have.
My heart sinks at my despair and companionless thoughts.

The only thing I can do now, is to keep scrolling.
My eyes fixed on the screen of my device,
my thumbs flicker from one side to another.
I keep myself distracted, vacantly staring at the pixels beneath the tip of my index finger.

Ultimately, the thoughts strike in its final wave.
Anxiety flushes over my sense of self,
and I realise.
That I.
I am.
the odd one out.

Disconsolate.
The fact that it's been 5 months
The fact that  you are gone
The fact that I can no longer call your voicemail and at least hear your voice there
The fact that this weight is crushing me
The fact that you would be getting married
The fact that you should have graduated
The fact that your nephew won't remember you
The fact that I can't hug you
Or yell "mom" at the top of my lungs
The fact that I still cry whenever someone talks about you
The fact that my best friend is gone

I miss you
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