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I wear my scars proudly
Because they're a reminder of someone who I used to be
But no longer am
Go ahead, pick your poison
The thought races through my mind
It burns a hole in my brain
I just want to get it over with
I close my eyes and pick up the first thing I feel
A gun, I bring it to my head and pull the trigger as quickly as I can...
I throw it down, picking up the next thing
A bottle of pills, I try and down more than enough, but they won't go down...
I throw them away too
I take the blade by my bed stand and I go to cut...but I can't bring it closer...
I close my eyes and I let the tears flow from my eyes
He wants me to stay...but I just want to be with him
This is about the struggle of a woman who lost her boyfriend and wants to join him, but just the thought of what he would think is what is stopping her from joining him.
I once had a friend who when we always used to play, played dead
I used to think it was really funny, those memories stay in my head
We would run around laughing
Where we would always be catching
Each other, trying to the other
I know that there will never be another
One day, while I was waiting for him to come over
I received the news...
And I still tell myself to this day...
He's just playing dead...
As a little kid, I was afraid of the monsters that were under my bed
Now they've come from under my bed, and into my head
Burying themselves, deep inside My thoughts
Buried so deep that they'll never be caught
My mind has changed, in a way that no one understands
I'm trying to pull my heart out with my hand
Because it aches and it burns me, they want it out
All they want I'd for me to rip it out.
This is a small poem about how sometimes the monsters under our beds, come out, only to climb inside our heads when we're sleeping.
Light the candle, a burning flame
I know it's dire, my time today
I can't blow it out
Only take it about
Everywhere I go, it's still haunting me

These lit candles
Are by their handles
In the hands
On the idle lands
Of the people, walking on the city streets

But here I sit, counting away
The hours, the seconds, the days
I'm left alone
Stuck in this home
Please just leave me alone, I'm too sick to go on

I'm losing control, I'm losing my sleep
Sometimes I wake, standing on my feet
In dark a room, and I don't know where
Where I am, I'm standing right there
But it still haunts me in the back of my mind
We all hold ourselves up to a flame that ultimately hurts us.
I wake up in the morning, my door still locked from the night before
Where I hid myself from the world.
Standing at the bus stop, hoping no one notices the cuts on my wrists or my red, blood shot eyes.
Roaming the halls I generally tried to avoid them, but they always seem to find me, again, and again.
Lunch is the same as always, I'm sitting alone, hoping someone notices me...all I need is a friend.
The bus ride home is full of more taunting...all because I love someone of the same gender...
I finally get home, I do my normal routine, go upstairs to my room, lock the door, and get out my razor.
I'll spend about an hour or so, making the same motions over and over again, thinking...I can't change who I am...
My mom comes home and says that she is starting dinner, I tell her okay, it'll be about an hour.
After dinner I read the texts that the others from school sent me...all the same...mean...discrimination against me...
I'm in my closet...with the chair...and the rope I took from the garage...I'm crying at the note I just left at my door...I go and I knock the chair from under my.
This is a poem that involves a countdown. It is also partially based off of the song Make It Stop (September's Children) by Rise Against.
It's another late night
My mind is bein thrown into turmoil
Shower thoughts can bring up the past
What would have happened if I had done this?
What would have happened if they did that?
Shower thoughts can haunt you
You don't want to think about those thoughts
But the shower drags you into a false sense of hope
That nothing bad will happen
When in the end, you always get out, changed
Changed from what could have happened to you or someone you cared about
If only you had done something else
But instead, they turn into shower thoughts
Haunting and preying on your memory
This is a poem about something that I've experienced and probably a lot of other people have to. Those thoughts that change you in a way. That's what showers do to me.
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