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Depressed and angry at the world
I put a pencil between my teeth
My last resort
I hope with all I have
It will make me feel better
My mom once told me that the physical act of smiling could make you happy, and that putting a pencil between my teeth and not letting my lips touch it counts. Whenever I'm in kind of a bad moment like now I think of it. Sometimes I do it when I've tried everything else I can bare, like right now.

(This note was written by your clothes that you wear everywhere and see all that you do. Luckily, they don't care)
'God, you're such a failure.'
As if you could do better?

'Can he do anything right?'
One word. Boxing.

'You ruin the entire team!'
Ok, ill just leave you with one less player.'

Failure gives you a chance to fly again.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
words
          flow
                out
                     of my mouth
                                           like droplets
             falling
out                          
                   of
                                         the
          air


falling
f a l l i n g
                                   further
                apart

never
together
again
After years of
Constant self-abuse
I've finally reached
My breaking point
And I don't think
Superglue will
Do this time
Congrats Peter, you've done it...
war
is it worth
children losing homes
mothers losing children
children loosing friends
is it worth all the red
all the hunger
all the sorrow
just for some pieces of land
the voices say to take up less
because im too large
because i cant
JUST BE ******* SMALLER
but i never will
GET ******* SMALLER
do it right
because my personality is
TOO ******* BIG
i have to make myself
so
*******
small
TOO ******* LOUD
because i
DONT DESERVE TO BE NOTICED
because i dont deserve to exist
to
take
up
this
much
space
yeah... so... anorexia is... fun... (i havent eaten in days)
my life,

a burning building

trapped

on the highest floor,
too far to jump

and survive

but the flames

inch

CLOSER
CLOSER
CLOSER

no choice

as i take

one

step

off




i fall
did you know that almost everyone who has tried to commit suicide and failed regrets committing suicide? <3 you're not alone.
i have to be

smaller

skipping

breakfast

lunch

dinner

eating

never

i­ weigh myself

constantly

can't

the hunger

a beast

i cannot

give in

i must be strong

but then why

the less

i eat

the weaker

i

feel?
if you couldn't tell, im not ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im fine
but the scissors cut deeper and deeper every time
im ok
im ok
im ok
im fine
but lying in by bed, i start to think its my time
im ok
i say
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
im ok
































im not
yeah... pretty self-explanatory
i remember the scratching sound of the record player
i remember the sharp blade of the scissors as the dim light reflected
i remember the noise of the cars 4 stories below
i remember the pills i thought of dying from so many times
i remember getting so acquainted with death that i tried to join him
i remember the red lines on my wrist
i remember feeling the sharp sting
i remember the music giving me life
i remember the music making me feel things that i don't feel
i remember the lights
i remember fading away
i remember my phone wallpaper
i remember the music taking me away
i remember blades of grass, so sharp in the morning sun
i remember sitting in my window nook as it rains
i remember the noise
i remember shutting down
i remember foggy mornings
i remember not talking
i remember not moving
i remember not being able to breathe
i remember the streetlights
i remember not feeling like myself
i remember looking in the mirror and seeing a stranger
i remember the sound of a fountain pen on parchment paper
i remember the taste of lemonade in the summer
i remember cloth scraping against flesh
i remember ribs poking through translucent skin
i remember dizziness
i remember the hunger
i remember the sun
i remember the rain
i remember drawing with posca markers on my arm
i remember dancing in puddles
a poem based on a kind i learned at a camp. write down i remember, and then the next thing that comes to mind to complete the sentence. i had to leave the room to cry in the bathroom for an hour. this will never be finished, ill just come back every so often and add to it
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