I feel like that's just a fancy way of saying
“jumping is the biggest decision a person can make”
because choosing to die is the most powerful thing you can do
to be free from every wound and trauma
to be free from another day or another trial
to be free from every single ugly part of living
so if my legs took me to my balcony
and I stumbled
as if I were going to jump
do you think I might feel a little of that freedom?
it's been way too long, poets. i'm glad to be back. this was an interesting piece to do, sparked by a phenomenon my friend explained to me the other day - call of the void. i recommend looking into it if you understand the feeling i'm writing about or are just curious.
i will not
a p a r t
to make someone else
what puts you to sleep at night?
what gets you out of bed in the morning?
what do you listen to when you're sad?
what do you listen to when you think of me?
what do you think of the color of the sky?
what do you think of the meanings of clouds?
do you look at the stars and think of me?
do you care if i look at the stars and think of you?
whats your favorite scent?
what smells remind you of time with me?
do you think about the meaning of our lives?
do you think about how out of seven billion and counting people
you're the one i fell in love with?
who was it - walking down the school corridor?
a Spanish teacher?
an honors student?
a football player?
you'll never know; you didn't care.
did it feel good,
to pull the trigger on
a best friend?
to take the lives of family and friends and lovers of innocent people?
was seeing those who have hurt you
suffer by your hand
worth a life behind bars?
16 years old
yet you think you have the right to take away life?
a week ago they took a gun away from a boy at my friend's school. had someone kept quiet, i could've lost some of the most important people in my life. if you suspect something, say something. the world is scary; stay safe out there.
who were you
before you were hurt?
i've had clinical depression and anxiety throughout the entirety of high school. this year, i'm getting ready to graduate. and honestly? i don't know who i am. i'm so used to being sad and nervous and insecure all the time that i don't know what my personality is actually like. i don't know what i think is funny or what i enjoy when i'm not depressed. anyhow, if you got this far, thanks for taking the time to read this. the road to recovery is a long one, and i'm still on it.
if the sun
doesn't embrace you with warmth
then i will.
if the leaves
don't blush red and fall for you
then i will.
if the flowers
don't bloom and burst for you
then i will.
if the ocean
doesn't sing you to sleep
then i will.
and if this poem
doesn't love you
then i will.
if i could write you a love poem
you know in an instant i would
but no words i could ever comprehend
would possibly be enough
to tell you how every day
every inch of my skin yearns for your touch
and i want nothing more
than to crawl inside of you
so that i never have to be away from you
to tell you how whenever i think of you
somewhere inside of me lights up
i want to pull that light out of me
and give it to you
so you know how i feel
to tell you how i know it’s not fathomable
yet i fall for you more every day
i want to peek inside your brain
and know that you’re thinking about me
as much as i do you
to tell you how i’m afraid
that someday i’ll lose you
and i’d rather you **** me
because i would rather die by your hands
than to live to see someone else take what’s mine.
when i first laid eyes on you
you captivated me with you dark, round eyes
and your full, brilliant lips
only to speak even more brilliant things
you whispered to me
and i caressed your green skin
i saved many different versions of you
for they were all so perfect
i was there for you
and you for me
but one day
you left me
for my love was not enough
to match the attention
of millions of normies.
yet still i love you
although you left me
and maybe you weren’t my first love
probably not my last either
you are the most important.
your scars are not beautiful
nobody is going to kiss your cuts
and you are not a tiger
whose earned their stripes
nor are you desirable
for the gap between your legs
or for your ribs
trying to escape your chest
nobody wants to see your bones
you are not strong
and you are not a hero
for going days without eating
feeling empty is not romantic
nobody is coming to save you
nobody else can fix you.
stop glorifying mental illness.
because i know
one day i’ll die
not just my body
but my memory
everything that remains of me
one day i’ll truly die
nobody will whisper my name again
and i’ll become
someday, nobody will think of me ever again
all i was
all i wish i could be
all i will be
will mean nothing.
probably my biggest fear but it's ok bc it's inevitable and i'm coming to terms with knowing that nothing will change when i die.
don’t try to captivate me with desire
for your body
for your touch
for your love
i don’t want it.
my waifu will never hurt me
your love will never be as warm as my computer
i have 2D girls, i don’t need you.
when just wanting to hurt isn’t enough
i sit alone
and wait for someone
but nobody comes
and all that remains
is the suggestion of relief
and the promise of pain
so once again
i’ll give into my vices
take up the scissors
and drag the cold metal across my wrists
but hurting is better than feeling nothing at all
and i’d rather slit my own wrists
than feel the pain of being scarred
by someone else
i’m sitting alone
in a room full of people
trying to find the words
to make my desire to die
sound poetic and romantic
- it’s not working
maybe i was just suicidal
for knowing the inescapable truth
and loving you anyways
how can someone who can’t love himself
possibly understand how to love me?
just glad it's over.
You came to me in the summer sun
Skin bathed in soft radiance
A gentle smile
And gentler words
You came to me like cookie dough
Spilling through my fingers
With chocolate eyes and caramel skin
And a laugh sweeter than either
You came to me on paper planes
Soaring above a sea of people
Heights that we could dream of reaching
Arms extended to the sky
You came to me as a pen scratching on paper
Late at night in a dimly lit room
Pages of messy thoughts on clean lines
“I love you” and jumbled nothings
And you left me in the pouring rain
Drowning in the depth of your words
Yet, still I would sink even further
If it meant to see you again.
— The End —