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I don't know how to tell you,
I don't want to disappoint you
I'm depressed Mom
I wish I could say it to your face
Instead of writing it down
I want to be able to tell you
Because
I'm sick of these voices
Inside of my head
Telling me how fat I look
Or how I'm annoying everyone I talk too
But I try to be happy for you
I smile but do you look me in the eyes?
Can't you tell that there's a war going on in my mind?
I know you see my scars
But you don't say anything
why?
I'm slowly killing myself
And I try showing you signs
So when I'm gone
Don't hate me because I didn't tell you
I just loved you too much
To say it out loud
I wish I could tell my mom that I've been contemplating taking my life for 3 years
 May 2014 anonymous
Colm
What I’d do if I could see you now:
I’d scream, I’d laugh,
Never let you say goodbye,
Hug you, kiss you,
Jump for ******* joy,
Give you every second,
Each minute of my time,
Losing you was like cutting
The connection to my spine
I’d give all I have in the way of fighting,
Give all the energy contained in lightning,
I’d give up my writing,
****, I’d even give up my arms,
And find a different way to hug you,
If I could just see you now.
 May 2014 anonymous
awallflower
Boy, don't tell me a lie.
Don't make me a promise you cannot keep.
I would rather live in the shadows,
then to be given light and to have the light taken away from me.
Don't write a poem for me.
I am not a girl who speaks and thinks about metaphors and the universe and love.

You talk about the seasons and you talk about our beginnings,
yet you cannot remember the trips you made to walk me home.
Now, would you believe me if i said i can tell you what month, day or hour it was?

So help me.
Don't talk to me because I have realised it was your words which hurt me most.
Don't promise me because I am always left with the shreds of your lies.
Don't write any more of your poems because I will keep them in my drawer but save it secretly in my heart.

Instead, cover my eyes and blind me.
Don't draw out this pain.
I have enough of your lies.
If you are going to try to give me a final promise,
Then the least you can do now
is to promise me
you will hurt me soon and break my heart swiftly.
i dont know what to think anymore.
 May 2014 anonymous
Mahalea Isis
He makes me feel beautiful
Which I have never felt before
I've always had my doubts and could never be too sure
Cause they told me I was ugly
They told me I was fat
They joked about me and never had regrets

And I sat there and I laughed it off but it hurt me inside
So bad that I got off the bus and ran straight to my room to cry
And I got on my knees and prayed at my window and asked the lord
"Why is this happening to me?" and it started when I was four
And yes, I still remember that far back
Cause being bullied is it's own feeling of being jumped or attacked

And *he makes me feel beautiful

Cause he looks me in my eyes and tells me that I am and I can tell it's not a lie...
Because instead of posting pictures I have edited and cropped
And having boys tell me I'm pretty through messages in my inbox...

He makes me feel beautiful
Cause he means what he says
And a few other people have told me I am cute but I thought they were just kidding
Cause I have programmed myself to thinking my beauty is forbidden
Which means that I could never be a girl that is praised
For her good looks, her perfect body, and her Aphrodite face.

He makes me feel beautiful
Cause even though I have flaws
He accepts them and makes me feel like I have none at all
So maybe I am pretty and I am starting to think better
Of myself instead of looking in the mirror with a look so bitter

He makes me feel beautiful
And when he tells me so with such a serious voice, I get chills
Cause he's the first person that hasn't made me feel completely ill
By insulting or pointing out one of my many imperfections
But instead trying to help get rid if that negative venom
That people have slowly injected into my mind
Making my optimism die slowly over time
Making me get violent and defensive and making me less kind
To the point I get a rush to commit a deadly crime

Then they say I'm crazy and continue with the names
It's a cycle, a stupid circle, a horrible made up game
That has expanded to the point where death is how you win
And I would of won this game if it wasn't for my kin

He makes me feel beautiful outside and in
So I wrote this in dedication to that special him
For helping me realize more than ever in my life
That maybe I am beautiful and I've been this way for a very long time...
Inspired by my ex-boyfriend and was written while we were together. A very personal and deep poem to me about how he made me actually feel perfect for the first time in my life.
 May 2014 anonymous
dixt
affliction
 May 2014 anonymous
dixt
is this what
heartbreak
feels like
i whispered
to the dark

but your lips
did not answer
and neither did
my heart
 May 2014 anonymous
Lindee
Untitled
 May 2014 anonymous
Lindee
Some days will be bad.
You will want to rip apart your ligaments
You will want to rupture your lungs
You'll no longer want to hear the bird sing.
You'll douse yourself in gasoline and strike a match at arms length.
but as the clock wrings it's hands, the nights of lonliness will morph into comforting evenings by a fire
the ligaments you wanted to rip will grow stronger, the gasoline will become inflammable.
The wisps of horsetail clouds will spin across your horizon
and you will be okay.
The instances or decades of pain you feel
will fade into the wallpaper of the new ER you build yourself,
a sanctuary, a haven. All of it will dissolve, a pill in water, bursting and then dispersing, scattering to the edges of your memories.
It will get better.
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