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Moni Aug 2018
I feel numb.
My emotions as empty
As my expression.
Thinking that maybe this
Can be this thing people call
Depression.
After weeks of suppressing
All these emotions,
I so badly want to feel them again.
It’s that one missing
Piece to this puzzle
Of what it’s like
To normal and whole.
You’re living and breathing
Like a normal human being,
But you can’t fully function
Like one.
Your drowning in the lack of emotions
That you would even ****
To feel anything.
Even if takes
A silver blade
That tears apart your flesh
And your mind.
Moni Aug 2018
My heart is trapped in the cage
Of your silhouette.
Chasing you through the shadows
And darkness
Moni Aug 2018
Burn your skin. Burn your throat  
With a cup of gin,  
Don't pretend that you prevent  
A red glow searing in.  

In your soul no control,  
Through the skin and through the vein,  
The edge of pain can drown it all,  
And gin cuts the pain.  

Cold as blade, then searing hot,  
The words so soft and nice:  
A carefree home, no lighting rod,  
Before you struck it twice

Burn your soul
Because the wounds on the outsides
Are unlike the ones on the inside:
They will always heal.
I  made the original poem better
Moni Aug 2018
The girl with a beautiful smile
A vibrant personality,
And a picture perfect family.
Envied and loved.
Not a single person to hate
Besides herself.
The things that nobody sees is when
She breaks down,
Cries,
And every night
Hunches over the toilet
With a spoon in her throat.
Telling herself only one more time to be pretty.
One more time to be happy.
One more time to be loved.
One more time to escape.
One more time to get better.
One more time to stop.
She lets her emotions overrule
And demons take control.
Life shouldn't be this way.
Her father's a drunk, her mothers a drug addict.
She would do anything to escape this world
Of darkness,
But no one seems to know.
She puts on this picture perfect image
To protect herself,
Despite it killing her that her voice will never be heard
No one seems to even notice
The bruises on her legs and back
Or how she always seems to go to the bathroom
Every time she eats "too much."
If she told anyone,
They would hate her,
Her parents would hurt her,
And she would never have any hope
Of becoming the girl she pretends to be.
this poem is actually not really finished. I might delete this one later
Moni Aug 2018
Call my scars ugly
Because I've never seen them as beauty.
Make fun of how I lost my sanity
For numbness.
And yes,
Go ahead
And call it teenage angst
Because you can't seem to find the line between
Phase and disorder.
I fought so many battles against myself
That you can't even imagine.
My scars on the outside
Only reflect little
Of the many scars I've left on the inside.
You may see my arm
Covered in scars as me once seeking attention.
While you are not completely wrong,
I can't even begin to explain
How wrong assuming could have been.
I lost my pride and disgnity for these scars.
Assumptions like yours
Are the reason I try to keep
Them hidden.
Why I, for so long,
Thought they made me ugly.
But really,
They are just an ugly part of my past
And beautiful reminder of the present.
So next time you see my scars,
Don’t stare,
Don’t assume,
And don’t call them ugly.
Just walk by
And see me as a normal human being
Moni Aug 2018
my heart s k i p s a beat
Everytime I
                       S
                         E
                            E
                        Y
       ­              O
                  U
My mind
     F
  L
      U
           T
      E
R
         S
Hearing your voice.
My cheeks B L U S H red
And my head
Starts
                       S             P           I
               G.                                         N
                       N             I            N
When you talk to me.
Why is it that I like you?
I hope he's not reading this
Moni Aug 2018
I don’t want to shed another tear,
I don’t want to burn my precious skin.
I don’t want my heart to ache another second knowing that I’ll never be good enough for you
I don’t want to be emotionally numb
I don’t want to spend another minute hating myself.
I don’t want to breakdown the thought of gaining a single pound.
I don't want to avoid human contact because of the thought that they will see me how I see myself.
I don’t want to love the feeling of hunger.
I don’t want to tear myself into pieces
I don’t want to see the beauty in the sick
I don’t want to weigh myself every 10 minutes
I don’t want to spend 3 hours pacing around my backyard
I don’t want to live in this constant l nightmare
I just want to be happy.
I want to be good enough.
I was to change for the better,
But it's harder than you think.
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