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 Aug 2018 Anonymous13
Semicolon
There's more to suicide than what we think it is.
It's not just unanswered questions,
sometimes, it's unasked ones.
For all those out there who self harm, please don't do it. Please don't do it, for me. For your family, for your friends, for all those who care, for yourself. You're not alone in this, trust me❤
For all those out there who are battling self harm, I'm so proud of you, keep going. I love
you, and I'm always here for you if you need me❤
For all those out there who help people that self harm, you're doing a great job. You're beautiful and you're going amazing❤
For all those out there who know people that self harm, please help them out. Tell them they're brave. Tell them they're not alone. Tell them you care. Tell them you love them. Give them your hand, they need it❤

©Semicolon
 Aug 2018 Anonymous13
Semicolon
War
 Aug 2018 Anonymous13
Semicolon
War
The war ended,
The pain stayed.
My condolences to all those who've lost their lives, literally or proverbially.
Unfortunately, all I can do is offer my condolences. I do hope to help in the best way possible, I believe in the power of the pen. Today, if across the globe, pens scribble about the war, I am sure that we'd be able to help.
©Semicolon
 Jul 2018 Anonymous13
Traveler
Your silence
Is sometimes quite loud
I would relieve your torment
But I'm not sure how

I don't like compromises
So I fake 'em
I hate commitments
So I break 'em

The world ran me down
Then ran me over
I'm not trying to be right
And I don't want to be sober...
Traveler Tim
When people ask me how I’m doing
I always say “I’m Fine.”
I wish I wouldn’t lie
While looking at their eyes
I wish they’d read my pain
And tell me “Everything will be Ok”
That I am not alone
That I won’t try to **** myself
When I am home
My thoughts are suffocating me
Like a bag over my head
Humanity teaches us how to hate
How to judge and hold a grudge
No one teaches when we are broken
When we feel happiness is stolen
We turn from fire to dust
And when we’re gone
People get hurt and call us selfish
For not giving them a sign
Yet we shared our crying
Every time we spoke
Every time we wrote
We bled with every movement
Pain was our greatest company
People see a weak sad person
While we are what you made of us
Broken souls
Empty souls
Trying to fill the void
Trying to hold a grip
Trying to survive
The horror around us
When we try to open up
Some people don’t believe
They say it’s all just a bad dream
Tomorrow it will be better
Things will get better
Though I want to be ok
Not tomorrow, but today
What if it’s my last day?
What if I don’t make it?
You can’t just squish something and not expect to break it
We are fighting a war within our heads
Our biggest weapon is to exist
Don’t tell us rough times will pass
Or to stop living on the past
Hold our hand and listen
for a cry of help.
 Jun 2018 Anonymous13
Semicolon
BURN
 Jun 2018 Anonymous13
Semicolon
You are made of stardust;
Your skin sparkles the way those stars do.
Your veins are made of the earth;
Your blood blooms flowers and leaves and trees.
Your breaths are made of the air of this planet;
You blow life into this world.
Your mouth, your lips are made of words;
You speak tales that nobody else feels.
Your eyes contain the universe in them;
They have stories to tell and stories to bury.
Your scars are made of the chronicles your life has lived;
They're constant reminders that you've felt emotions nobody has.
You are infinite.
How'd you think it's okay to burn yourself down?
~Semicolon
 Mar 2018 Anonymous13
Semicolon
My favourite time of the day
is when it is no longer day;
when night has fallen.

I step out of my house,
into the dark,
waiting to be embraced by the
ineffable love
and consolation
it gives me.

But oh! as the sky begins to
breathe darkness,
so does the world
existing beneath it.

As I walk down the
streets,
the night scares me.
I see
shadows lurking round
the corner;
I see
their greedy gaze
piercing through the dark,
running towards me;
I see
their selfish hands
cutting the atmosphere,
extending towards me;
I see
their brutal thoughts
waiting for me
to fall into their trap;
I see
them ***** me,
kidnap me, **** me, **** me;
I see-
I see them leave me
dead
altogether.

As the night falls,
I run away
from my favourite
time of the day.
 Mar 2018 Anonymous13
Semicolon
What have I done to help those bleeding souls?

Stood here?
Gaped at them?
Been a spectator to
their eyes swelling up
after shedding gallons of tears?
Seen their bodies
wither away
like the happiness in their smile?
Watched their soul
shatter to pieces,
while they tried to fix it
again?

What have I done to help those bleeding souls?

Felt their cold hearts
turn colder?
Lent an ear to
hear their soul weeping?
Promised them
to be by their side,
always,
unlike their hopes and dreams,
which lay broken
on the ground?

Yes I did; I did
stretch out my arm
to clasp their
hands tighter
than their fears and
insecurities; I did
sing lullabies to hush their
anxieties to sleep; I did
stretch out my hand.

But how wrong I was;
I did not realise that–
they never needed the
sympathy I bestowed upon them,
all they needed was–
love.

What have I done to help those bleeding souls?
 Mar 2018 Anonymous13
Isha Kumar
I met her once
a little, blind girl
who had let me
inside her wonderful world.

Yes, she couldn't see,
the girl with eyes bright.
Yet, she loved her world
like she never lost her sight.

She heard the music
of the breeze that blew.
The love for her world,
it only grew.

She acquainted me with
that music she heard,
from the buzz of the bees
to the chirping of the birds.

Yes, she couldn't see
the wonders of life.
Yet, she smiled
without a sign of strife.

She had beautiful eyes
filled with wonder.
I stood speechless and thought
how could God make such a blunder?

She danced and sang
with a graceful twirl.
How she loved her life
the little, blind girl.

She smiled and laughed,
her face filled with joy.
With wonder in her eyes,
she was serene, yet coy.

She felt her world
beneath her tiny fingers
and on me left a mark
that would forever linger.

Yes, she couldn't see
the life that she felt.
Yet, she never showed
the sorrow that she dealt.

Her world was dark.
Yet,  she saw
the Earth's true form
pure and raw.

Yes, she let me in.
But I couldn't overstay.
So, I excused myself politely
and quietly walked away.

I had met her once
a little girl who couldn't see.
Yes, she was a child
but the happiest there could ever be
Probably one of my best works. I'm pretty proud of it. ^_^
 Mar 2018 Anonymous13
Semicolon
If my messy letters and my haywire words
don’t speak my stories to you,
if my commas hanging down the lines and my full-stops flying away from them
add no essence to my tales for you,
if my chaos and my strangled thoughts aren’t strong enough
for you to let down your walls,
if all you see in my writing is scribbles,
then, for you, I’m a whole universe waiting to be unfolded…

Read my words,
because their silence would scream my mysteries out to you;
look at those syllables,
they would unfurl my world before you;
feel my scripts,
they would echo the colors I hold within.

Read what I write,
and behold my words paint my worlds before you...
My heart breathes the stories my pen says in words...
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