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Sep 2018 · 785
The Falling Man
Lydeen Sep 2018
Patiently.

Waiting for your death.

Desperately.

Jumping as if you have wings.

Flying on the back of an angel.

Gracefully.

As if you're merely swimming.

Bravely.

Through a shattered window of reality.

At Peace.







But why are you still unknown?
Yeah so I wrote this a few months ago, but there's a picture of a man who lept to his death from the tower to escape the flames. Look up the falling man. The picture is absolutely chilling. He is speculated to be Johnathan Briley, but his remains were never definitively found. They were buried in the wreckage, and burned.
Aug 2018 · 398
The Blood Rose
Lydeen Aug 2018
(A rose)

The colour crimson.

(A rose)

The beautiful pain.

(A rose)

Thorns hiding in wait.

(A rose)

Beauty that won't last.

(A rose)

Reminding of the hurt.

(A rose)

Thinking of the patterns.

(A rose)

Carved into your wrists.

(A rose)

Soaked in blood by your beautiful hand.

(A rose)

The last beautiful thing you see.

(A rose)

Stained crimson in your death.
Jun 2018 · 353
Pointy Things Are Fun
Lydeen Jun 2018
Pointy thing are fun,
Especially while you're having none.

Calling with promise of peace,
Leaving you with a feeling of release.

No matter your despair,
These are marks all can wear.

We all come for different things,
When we leave the heart always sings.

Some choose death,
Others need pain whilst holding their breath.

Pointy things are fun,
A quick slide and you're all done.
I can barely be active during the summer, so this is probably all you four that follow me will get for awhile.
May 2018 · 254
My Personal Hell
Lydeen May 2018
Welcome to my personal Hell.
I hope your visit will go well.

Everyday, right in my eyes,
They look at me as if they despise.

Up to your left you will see,
A list of why they all have hated me.

Why is it blank?
I don't know.
Maybe it was just meant to be so.

They laugh and jeer,
*******'re such a queer.

They made me cry,
Hopefully I'll die.

Years and years,
But no-one hears.

Stick and stones
Break your bones,
But words can breaks a heart.

Why is it me?
You could see,
Am I small and weak?

Maybe they hate me because the outside defies,
The inside they so despise,

My strength scares,
My words that tear,

The weapon of choice?
Always my voice.

They asked for it,
Challenged my sharp wit.

They attacked and provoked,
As they cruelly joked.

I defended myself,
You better watch yourself.

My walls I have built,
Much to my guilt.

The friends I have hurt,
The words I still blurt.

My friends don't deserve my hate,
My only permanent trait.

I could just not talk,
Enforce my walls with bedrock.

To hide the real me,
Since no-one cares to see.

They look at me as if they despise,
Everyday, right in my eyes.

I hope your visit went Hell,
You can always take my place in My Personal Hell
I'm just sorta trying to write anything that comes to mind so this come out interesting
May 2018 · 388
Breathless
Lydeen May 2018
Like silk the waves swallow me,
An endless abyss of silence.

Like a waterfall in the spring,
The water is crashing above me.

Like the sea water in my mouth,
My lungs burn for sweet air.

Like the soft glow of an ocean sunset,
My consciousness dissappears.

Like a tide falling,
I no longer exist.
I should get help
May 2018 · 591
Papercuts
Lydeen May 2018
They just look like paper cuts, only skin deep.

The paper cuts are of a reminder of crying myself to sleep.



They just look like paper cuts, imprinted on my arm.

Too bad these paper cuts are caused by my self harm.



They just look like paper cuts, whispers of stinging hurt.

Hurt that is easily hidden by a long sleeve shirt.



They just look like paper cuts, barely there to stay.

Too bad these paper cuts will never go away.



They just look like paper cuts, but why do they scar?

It's because these paper cuts are much deeper by far.
I honestly hate all of my work.
May 2018 · 223
Innocent Lips
Lydeen May 2018
Your lips touch mine.

Caressing softly in the dark.

Your lips touch mine.

Gently like a summer breeze.

Your lips touch mine.

With the innocence of a child.

Your lips touch mine.

One last time before you leave.

Your lips touch mine.

In my memories and dreams.

Your lips touch mine.
I'm sad
May 2018 · 3.6k
Seven
Lydeen May 2018
One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Fi-

Or...

Was...



It

four?

Better

start

again,

being

safe..



One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.



Start

Again.

Counting.

Every.

Single.

Thing.

He­re.



Cracks.

Wait?

How

long

was

that

there?



One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.
­


Scratching.

Poking.

Prodding.

Anxiety

makes

me

tick.



­Breathe.

One.

Out.

Two.

Breathe.

Three.

Out.



Four.

Brea­the.

Five.

Out.

Six.

Breathe.

Seven.



Haiku.

Seven.

Five­.

Sev-

Five.

Seven.

Five.



Seven

Doesn't

Have

Seven

Freaking

Numbers



Crap.

That

was

six.

Need

to

revise.



Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

­One.



In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.



Ignore

it.

But
­
I

Can't.

You

can.



But

I

simply

don't

have

the

strength.



I

just

can't

stop

ticking

right

n­ow.



Help

me.

Gonna

drown

and

die.

Save

me.



Seven.

S­ix.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.



Now

it's

too

late

to

save

me.



The

numbers

have

already

won

this

one.
Uhm so this is my first post on here, because I got accepted like two days ago. I know I'm trash btw, and all of my poems are super long. Sorry.

— The End —