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Rain Mar 11
Gasping,
Internally
Dying.
The air’s too thick
Too sweet

I claw at my face with broken nails
Glass shards peirce my hands
The thought of tomorrow,
Burns my skin.

There will be no last battle,
no moment of salvation
My broken body
is covered in ****** stains
By my own hand I was slain

My legs are pumped with lead
Heart beating slow, now
So slow...

Tears ***** my eyes, burning like hot liquid fire
Even yet I do no cry out
To cry out would be to move

       And I can’t move, not now

Trapped in a cage of my own design
I sit paralyzed
Muscles struck stiff
But as the knife tears through me like paper,

                 I finally scream.

Cool hands touch my skin now
I hear a doctor’s voice saying that
It’s OK, all ok now
but it’s too late, far too late for me.
    
            It was always too late.
Sometimes, when my anxiety is especially bad, the only way I can force myself to calm down is to picture myself being hurt. The violence is like... Fulfillment, like my imperfection is suddenly ok, because I’ve been  sufficiently punished. And I’m a Believer, so I know that it doesn’t really help, and that it’s unhealthy, and that it would never be enough to make up for my sins anyway, but some days it’s all I can do to function. I know it needs to change, but today I just... I can’t.
Rain Feb 17
I can't solve all the problems in the world, I know,
So how do I choose which ones to fix?
To truly help them, I must let go
of my own selfish happiness

Instead, I will strive to mend what is broken,
Though broken is what I may be
Simply living is indeed a heavy token
A token of which I admit, I wish I was free

So how do I choose who to throw a lifeline to?
Because
Each lifeline takes a piece of me too
And I'm not sure how many pieces I have left

But in bringing others joy,
One must often sacrifice their own happiness
Yet I

I can't save every starfish,
but in saving a few I  must watch the rest die
As I selfishly choose which ones to let live and let lie
:(
I see my friends hurting, and I want to be there, but I can't heal every person  I meet in need of my help. I'm afraid that someday the weight of all their burdens will crush me, once and for all, but until that time, I'll guess I'll keep trudging onward, cracks, broken pieces and all, until the day I just can't move any farther.
Rain Feb 17
It’s a city from the outside,
Shining on a hill
But from the inside looking out
It’s just another jail
It sometimes feels like the city walls are pressing in, suffocating me, but I can’t leave, at least not yet. Soon, though, I’ll be leaving; soon... I just have to remember to breathe long enough to get there.
Rain Feb 6
“Roses
are red,
violets are blue.
I hope
you love me,
because I really
love you.”

But when the roses are done
And the violets do fade
I turn my head
To hide this facade
And we’ll go on living
Like we are in love
When really there’s nothing
Nothing but dust
This is an addition to a poem titled “Roses are Red” by a wonderful poet called Masha Yurkevich (she wrote what’s in quotes). She’s a great writer, and you guys should go check her out!
Rain Feb 2
Lies are
A soft velvet cover we wrap around
Glass shards of truth
Hiding their vicious gleam
Dulling their jagged edges
And though you cannot see what is beneath
Would you really want to?
After all, those that claim to have seen all that lies beyond the world’s lies
Bear the worst scars.
Knowledge is power, but ignorance is bliss, so choose what you would know with care.
Rain Jan 30
The Smog is a thick blanket tonight,
The moon just visible through its veil
Toxic, smothering us in the dark
As we run beneath the stars

Every breath in piercing, clotting, cloying
We grit our teeth and grin as mad
We are one, we sprint
We are mad,
As we run beneath the stars

Cubicle, so tiny
A cage so confining
School, so tiring
Walls made of iron
Home, so clean
Polluted air so pristine
Hate and venom, clear oxygen
No one else can smell this fear

Outside, a breath
Noxious fumes, a little death
Fumes inhaled
Less deadly yet

And so we run.
We race and we choke
Taking life as we go
We throw off our masks,
Oxygen filtered out
Who needs to breathe?

Suffocation outside is a better kind of sting.

We run, we fly beneath the stars
Laughing, roaring
Fulfilling this ache
Inhaling the toxins,
Letting them keep us awake

We may cough and we may sputter,
But this is the pain we choose
So much better than any other

And so we run.
The non-literal suffocation of life at home, at work, and in school can be, in my mind, so much greater than the suffering one experiences when going out into the polluted streets (the "throw off our masks" line has a double meaning, one of mask as in hiding who you are elsewhere, and mask as in a mask against toxins in the air), and sometimes it’s worth it to simply let go.
Rain Jan 30
Maybe we cut
Because the monster we've tried so hard to be rid of
Isn't hunting us,
Isn't near us,
Isn't lurking around the corner to come get us
But is in us

It is Us
We run so fast and so far to escape our monsters, but more often than not we find that _we_ are what we’ve despised.
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