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Ronan Mar 24
Suicidal thoughts that i know i'll never act upon
Yet they pop in my head and haunt me each night
Thoughts of overdosing on all of my medicines become so strong
That i take 15 benadryl once a week
Because if i dont im afraid
That my impulses will be so strong
That i might actually take my only life
Because i can't trust myself to think straight
At night
I can't trust myself to do what's right
So i spend my nights in a haze
Hoping that the benadryl will make me too sluggish to form my own thoughts
And too slow to move my limbs
That way i know
I will be stuck on the floor
But i won't be dead

Suicidal thoughts that plague me each day
Until i feel i've expended my last breath
On useless things like stupid poetry that nobody will ever read
On ****** drawings of flowers
On stories that keep me up all night because i lack the motivation to finish
Anything that i've started.

Stupid talks with my friends where they waste their pity
On my decaying mind

I know they don't really care
They don't listen when i speak
They don't read my texts
They ignore the things that i try to express
And they treat me like ****
Like my sadness is a personal offense

I listen to them
I notice the signs
I get what they try to convey
Always without complaint

But listening to me
Is a chore that nobody wants
Lord knows i'm just a degenerate

Suicidal thoughts that glide in and slip out
Like the waxing and waning of the moon
Like the tide brought forth on cold and warm days

Suicidal thoughts that never truly end,
But when it's time to talk to my psychiatrist
My mouth is shut
And my mind is closed
And my tongue is locked in position
My voice bubbling and trying to break free
But my lips stay sealed and silent
The clacking of my teeth but not a word comes out

In and out i go
I say what they want to hear

Im fine
Im here
Im great
I don't need medicine

My depression is cured
And anxiety gone
But thats wrong

I wake up each day
My chest tightening
My throat constricting
Drowning in a pool of sweat

My eyes won't open
Im dead
Im dead
Im dying
At least i'm trying

My body wants to die
It enforces my mind

I'm not supposed to be alive.

Suicidal thoughts
They never really leave

But i refuse to go away

I refuse to tell
Because i know that if i do
I will truly be alone
And everybody will forget
My voice
My face
Nobody will remember
My screams
Because im screaming hopelessly into a void of nothingness
And nobody can hear
I scream louder and louder
Someone will listen
But it's the void
Nobody cares
Nobody hears
Nobody knows

Im screaming

Hear me
See me
Just listen for once

But the wind carries my voice far away
And nobody knows

I'll turn to dust
Drift away
Soft and quiet
Gone without complaint

Suicidal thoughts
But i won't follow through
Because if i stay long enough
My voice might reach out far enough
To give at least one person hope
One person reason
To stay.

Because i have lived for fictional characters
I live for words
Words that write me in and out of history
And the people will remember my name some day
Somebody out there will look back on what i've written
And they will connect
And believe and understand the way i feel
And they will be free

Because if i can inspire the way that authors have in my life
If i can make somebody think
And breathe and feel
And see

It will all be worth it

Or maybe it won't
I am fine, this was 2 years ago
Ronan Mar 9
I see you and wow
Its like i can't even think
My mind can't begin to comprehend how somebody like you would ever talk to me
But its like i said when we met.
People always end up ignoring me
Im annoying and people dont like me
I look at you now and think
God what have i been doing
Thinking of you all night
Smiling when i hear your name
Think of your soft curls that spill over your sleepy eyes
Of your sweet smile
What have i been doing
Because god if you so much as smiled at me
My heart would break
Because i know how this will end
What have we been doing
You with your soft skin
That sweet smile of yours
Your beautiful eyes
And your words that made me believe, just for a second
That i was capable of the impossible
What have you done
You let me believe
Of the brush of fingertips
And the shine of moonlight on your face
You let me wonder
How you would blush when i would push back your curls
How you would smell cuddled up next to me.
You let your name become a melody that i could breathe with
A rhythm my heart would beat to
And now my words are spilling out like ink
Upon paper
The softest leaves floating in the breeze
The salty tears spilling over tender cheeks
Are all mine
The brush of lips against skin
Something i could never have
I want to stop dreaming
Because i see your face
I hear your laugh, sweeter than the soft twinkling of bells against the wind
I'm a whisper in the dark
A shout into the void of unfillable emptiness
What the hell have i done
Dreaming of you in my arms
I let myself fall
And believe that it could be you
And i tried
I really did
I tried to be the person you would want
I tried to be myself
For once
But that doesn't help anybody
Your name repeated over and over until the end of time
I fell for you and your words
That made me feel
So **** real.
I want to fall into a dreamless sleep
Without your voice a crescendo in my ears
Louder louder louder until i wake up
Why do i love you
So much that tears threaten to spill just thinking of what you are doing right now
Are you
Are you
Are you happy
I hope you are
Not with this
Or what i've said.
I mean i really want you to be happy
I want you to smile and never feel hurt
Or sad
Or broken
I want you to dream of worlds where you can do anything
Because you can
Ronan Feb 26
Death takes no shape
                                              no form
As he steals away into the night
His bag full of bones
So light yet so heavy
The hollowed souls of boys and girls
The guilt upon his shoulders
                                   that makes him waste
                                                                           curved, slighted
soft but dead.
                                          Death takes no shape
                                                                        But should he choose one,
                                           It would be a bird
                                             Free, and wise
without the weight of his loves
                                                                                              Her lovers
Their children and family
and pets
         And every once living breathing beating seething soul
                                                               Without the weight of the dead
That constricts his chest until he knows he shall combust
                                    Until he cannot breathe
Choking, drowning
                                                                          Asphyxiation taking hold
Babes that never grow old
The pain of thieving a life
                               Is the pain that death carries
As he slips in through the back door.
                                                     The window she left open just a crack
                                                                             The unlocked side door
Death falls apart each time
                                     Falling to the ground
Before standing up
                                                                            And taking another life.
                                     For that is the trouble
Of a living
Loving soul
                                 Tasked with the impossible
Named with pain.
                                                             O death takes no shape nor form
                                 But should he choose one
It would be a final breath
A tear gliding down a cheek
For death knows that is the essence
Of life
                                                                                                    Rain drops
                                                                                                    Tear drops
             The very things that connect many to the world
            Are the same things that tear Death apart at night
They are not only the binding
The instrument of life
                                                                        But the first signs of decay.
                            Should Death choose a form
                                    It would be a laugh
Because that is the most alive
                                                                       That Death could ever feel.
"no form" this specific part is a reflection on ways one can take a life, through weapons, rope, hands, air, pills. it could be anything or it could be nothing.
"so light yet so heavy" light because bones are rather light, heavy because of the guilt and pain that is carried with the dead
Final stanza these things are the most sure signs of life, but they can be the cause of death as well. seeing the negative and positive sides of life can bring things into focus
Ronan Feb 26
Second place
Always seemed so nice
Second best
Never hurt so much
Ronan Feb 24
The smell of dirt envelopes me as i run down the street and turn the corner.
Sliding down the wet pavement i feel my bare feet rub raw.
i can taste blood from biting the insides of my cheeks, maybe even my tongue.
i finally escaped after so long.
In the distance i hear a dead girls name being called.
They dont really care i tell myself.
If they did they would be calling a different name.
Its only a matter of time once the cops come, searching for a girl they will never find.
A girl who doesn’t exist.

Once upon a time there was a little boy.
He lived inside of a girls body, hiding under layers of soft, silky skin.
Under an itchy dress with sparkling gold thread that chafed his chest as he moved, leaving rashes across his sensitive shoulders.
Despite being pressed into the mold of a young girl, he managed to survive.
His long hair tumbling down his shoulders, in sheets of brown that shined with honey in the sun.
His eyelashes were long. His eyes were dewey.
Freckles sprinkled across his cheeks and small freckles on his arm.
His mother called them angel kisses.
That boy was me.
In first grade he got his hair cut short. His parents warned him that people might think he was a boy. That was okay.
It stayed that way until 4th grade. His hair was in a short bob, shaved on the side. His neighbors called him a ****. One of them bullied him so he poured the kids sprite down his face.
The bully stomped on the boys toe and he bled. That was okay.
In 6th grade, he told his best friend a secret. He wasn’t a girl.
His best friend called him handsome.
She was the perfect friend.

Now the girl doesn’t exist. Her parents pretend she does. She has been gone for a long time.
She is dead. Her parents know that she is gone, but they think if they pretend enough, that she will come back, that if i am denied love and support i will eventually waste away into oblivion, and she will come back.
i’m still running, but now i yell out too.
i am here.
i am real.
I am Ronan
Ronan Feb 24
Maybe if I try hard enough I can capture the stars that reside within your eyes.
The idea of you sends shivers up my arms. How I long to be in yours.
Would you hold me through the night, keeping me safe and warm.
If I change myself, you can notice the beauty lying behind my eyes.
Maybe if I look hard enough, I can see a hint of a smile playing at your lips.
If I waved, would you wave back.
I am something of a ghost.
Hiding where nobody can find me unless they truly wish to see me.
You are something of a love song, bringing warmth to all who hear.
The thought of you sends my heart into a flurried frenzie
You are a planet, and I am a moon, I live to see you but never come close.
Never close enough to feel the warmth that you radiate so proudly.
I stand alone.
You stand apart.
I float in this desolate place as you laugh across the room.
I am a ghost,
And you are a love song.


In time, I shall capture the stars residing within your lovely brown eyes.
I have found love within your arms, you in mine.
You see the beauty behind my eyes and you beckon it to come out.
The sun is shining and I feel free.
A smile upon our lips, like a shared secret.
I am no longer a ghost, hiding in plain sight.
We are a love song, together you and I.
We are the wind and sea, working together.
You and I are dancers, creating intricate patterns done best with two.
We are the stars and the moon, radiating joy for all.
I stand with you.
You and I.
I am not a ghost.
You are not alone.
We are a love song.
Ronan Feb 24
I love to write.
I love the way the words pour out of my mind,
The way the letters spill onto the paper.
I love how the letters come together to form beautiful words.
How the words come alive and bring tears into some eyes,
How they pull up the emotions, tug them from your heart.
I love how I can open up.
Everything I own is messy and disorderly.
But my words, when spoken, when written, when read, when sang, when felt.
They are neat little boxes, made of glass.
They are clear and fragile. I don’t throw my words around.

I use my words with a special kind of proficiency.
While everything else isn’t dependable, I know I can trust My words to be neat.
I wield my words with emotion.

— The End —