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 Feb 2014 Celeste
Cassie Stoddard
sometime
the need to write
scribbling words on paper
is as strong as the need to write
but the thought scares me
and so
i push the urge deep down
and hold my breath
but then
i cannot hold it any longer
and i let it out
letting the writing become me
an when im done
tears flow
not because the writing is beautiful
but because it is captivating
to let loose those things that i kept hidden
and because
i finally allowed myself
to breathe
 Feb 2014 Celeste
September
A slate cannot
be wiped clean
if sins are
written with a
chisel.
 Feb 2014 Celeste
Gary Muir
untitled
 Feb 2014 Celeste
Gary Muir
I miss having someone with whom I can share my deepest feelings, my hurts, my desires. I need to relieve this aching chest, this chest that tightens up without my noticing, until I begin to gasp. I need to cry; I need someone who knows my inside, and not my out. Its tough not being known—it is a situation one feels no need to prepare for, until it occurs. I desperately want to invite someone in—though only someone that knocks first, someone that wants to be here. And I myself want to be welcomed into another, to understand and feel for someone else, as they feel for me. Here in this place, how do I make my knock heard? My knock is faint, and unfamiliar. I shall keep knocking nonetheless. And pray a door will be opened.
Suicidal Thoughts
by Shani Jonas

I paint a pretty picture
on the base of my wrist
with my razor and some red liquid
and my hand clenched into a fist

I do one stroke for everything thing I hate
everything that gets me down
I do a stroke for everything that turns my ugly smile
into an even uglier frown

I do one stroke for promises
that are very often broken
There is one stroke for love not returned
When someone throws away your kind token

another stroke goes on my wrist
for all the unfairness in this time
things go good for a second
and go bad for months at a time

A stroke for all the people I can’t stand
a stroke for all the harm done
a stroke for all stupidity in the world
a stroke for all the guns

that **** all those innocent people
I use this razor to show the things that I hide inside
one more stroke and I’m dead...
*A stroke for committing suicid--
 Feb 2014 Celeste
maybella snow
I didn't get to school today
I woke up
usual time
and lay still
my arms felt like they were
strapped to the bed
my legs felt like the bones
had been replaced with lead
my shoulder sunk into the matress
and my head was stuffed with
cotton or water
I wasn't able to move
so I cried
and after a while
of crying I finally lifted a shoulder
nothing was wrong with me
but the weight
I just couldn't move


look what depression is doing to me
how am I meant to live through this?
 Feb 2014 Celeste
R
Untitled
 Feb 2014 Celeste
R
i think the moment that you
realize that an exacto knife is
just used for art is a beautiful
thought that should be
never forgotten.
i picked up the instrument that i used to use on every few days to now barely ever. i plan on trying to never use it again unless for art purposes. i want to express myself through my words, actions, and artwork. not through the blood that drips down my wrist. i want to thank all of HP for being there for me through everything. you all mean so much to me, keep writing, its a beautiful gift that you all have, keep it! x
 Feb 2014 Celeste
coffeemantra
Her thoughts slipped through her mind as the razor slit through her veins
Her faults and pains washed down with the water to the drain
Her conscious seemed more vague as her life dangled from pint to pint
My sister walked in 'I just need to..' Her sentence stopped midway by screams of exasperation
The shower had turned into my accomplice
The transparency of the water had turned into a host for my waste deep feelings
My heart a beat away from death
My brain a suicidal attempt from bliss
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