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ADMIT IT!
I screamed at my reflection.
YOU'VE BEEN DEAD SINCE THAT DAY
I yelled at the tear stained face.
When he left you died.
The distraction that was keeping you happy,
left.
You have nothing.
Now you're so empty.
So numb that it hurts,
just admit it.
I have been able to see first hand,
the ability of distractions.
They have so much power, you think you are alive and yet you realize one day you don't know what happen.
Whether in relationships with false happiness,
where you're feeding off the happiness of attention.
Whether in work, 40 hours a week no time to think,
and the other time is for sleep still not enough time in the week.
To realize that you have let your self die,
and something else take over,
that you haven't been living, just wasting.
Distractions can **** you,
trust me I'm dead on the inside.
I hope there's a way to come back,
I need a way to come back,
slowing down is one,
writing is another.
Distractions can ****,
just like illness,
slow down during this time,
and feel your self and the power of being alive.
Control is an illusion,
that I thought I could master.
I tried hard and fell harder.
my happiness took a hit,
and my motivation took a plunge.
Here I stand realizing,
I haven't felt alive in a long time.
I was starving,
yet I couldn't eat.
Little did I know,
I was deprived of happiness,
and that was just the start.
I had been hiding,
in work, food and lies.
Telling myself I just needed a nap.
I need happiness, I need to speak,
I have to write.




slowly

                  my
                                 hunger





                                                     ­                 f       a          d      e          s
Sat there, while it was pouring
Was drenched, but he was grinning
For he was able to provide shelter to the abandoned "pets"
While he himself was homeless.
.....
  Jan 9 Darian Marie Dalton
yv
She writes him letters
that he'll never read
letters that speak of her heart
letters that she'll forever keep
and expect her heart will weap
for that boy she always writes about
Writing is the drug,
anxiety is the withdrawal,
talking is the rehab,
and being told I'm wrong is the relapse.
You're feelings are valid always on pen and paper.
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