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Lynx Apr 1
Like ice
but not quite
like stone
but not quite
life is gentle
that I know
more than ever
as another life passes me by
the same way a leaf blows in the wind
Someone in Dawa's discord requested I write a poem about death, so I did.
Lynx Jan 1
I awaken
my eyes not yet open
to a new year
my cat curled beside me
I move to stroke his soft fur
'this year will be better'
I promise myself
smiling softly
and sitting up
preparing myself
for a new day
Happy New years everyone (even though it's almost 7pm)
Lynx Dec 2018
My anxiety is a large fur coat.
Its made of dead things
But it keeps me safe from the elements.
I overheat, most likely because I keep it on too much.
I don't want to risk a sudden cold front.
I don't want to ever be exposed to the elements again.
Something that started as a 6 word story. Then grew.
Lynx Sep 2018
The night was as cold as ice
The white snow glistens beneath my feet
As I walk, the white ground crunches
Am I alone?
Was I ever truly company for anyone?
My hands are cold
but my heart burns bright
and shines like gold
Lynx Mar 2018
My life's essence is a dragon's rage,
fueled by anger and hatred
similar to Kiyohime
burning down the bell
Anchin hides in
to escape her fury
However unlike her
I do not take lives
I may burn them
and leave scars
but I never sacrifice the human
they deserve much worse
than I could ever deal
to those who harmed us
Lynx Mar 2018
I'm tired
yet here I write
beneath the bright light of my room
too tired to move the trash off my bed
writing in hopes others will understand
will resonate with me
will be happy
for some reason, or another
I just want everyone to be happy
but I know it's not that easy
and I wish I knew that when I started out
because I wouldn't have painted myself in this corner
with no way out
now that my mind has had itself firmly planted
in that frame of thought...
Anixety and depression is a *****, man. So is trying to make everyone else happy when you can't even make yourself happy.
Lynx Mar 2018
I hate myself
I hate myself
so much
I hate myself so much that I want to hurt myself
I can't
I used to
but now I'm not allowed
the blade wills me
but I'm not allowed
I want it
it's shiny
it's sharp
I miss carving out
my pain into my skin
but I'm not allowed
it's okay
I'll move past it
a poem about someone who hasn't self harmed in years and misses it dearly
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