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 Feb 2014 Diana
Daniel Magner
It's windy nights
like these
that **** me to ponder
all the things I could have been
but now I'll never be,
all the words I wish I said
now locked inside my chest,
how my brother
has  become a stranger,
or maybe the
stranger
is
me
.
.
.
how did we let it get
this far
two months now
no text
no call
nothing
does he still
love
me?


Daniel Magner 2014
 Feb 2014 Diana
DarlingChild
2:29 a.m.
Just one more cut the girl thinks to herself for the sixth time that night.
She slides the small razor across her upper thigh
What a sight
she thinks with a sigh.
2:32 a.m.
Her clock blinks red
like the blood that's bubbling up from her leg
2:34 a.m.
It's Valentine's Day
Is all that comes to mind before
just one more cut
2:35 a.m.
One more slice
because what's the harm?
It feels so nice
but never on her pretty, pale arm.
2:36 a.m.
Just one more go
Because the blood comes out just a little too slow
2:38 a.m.
She was fourteen that year
and nothing seemed right...
2:40 a.m.
So she snatched up her razor that was oh so dear
to use on herself, on that cold, cold night
2:41 a.m.
the red numbers keep flashing
tick tock tick tock
for every second, her resolve was dying
all because of that never-stopping clock
2:43 a.m.
just a couple more scars
really why not?
she's come this far.
9:34 a.m.
her brother finds her dead
curled up in a ball
in her nice, warm bed
9:35 a.m
her brother screams and looks to the covers
they're covered in red
he screams again and calls for their mother
who sees all of those ****** scars now carved into her leg
9:41 a.m.*
a single scar in the most unlikely of places
her pretty pale arm, so beloved by she
one last slice to end her life
down the river, down the stream
Okay, so this is my first poem and I'm not really sure how I did. :I
I messed up on the rhymey part some, but whatever... Plus I need to work on my descriptive writing and my ability to get into deer, dark roles.
 Feb 2014 Diana
Emily
childhood
 Feb 2014 Diana
Emily
I was always a really ***** kid. Not in a slimy way but I always just liked playing out in the trees even though I’d come home with my knees caked with ****** ***** and my hair tangled with sap that would take days to wash out and I’d have to quietly wash off with the garden hose because there would be Hell To Pay if I tracked mud in the house. It was my solace, mostly, running away into the whispering pines that surrounded my house until I was 13 and our neighbors sold it out to contractors and a family with a boy who liked to torture bugs moved in and that was the end of my hiding place. But until then I knew the fastest way to the river that hardly anyone else ever visited and I knew the best place to hide and I could climb this one fir in three seconds flat and it was wide enough that it would shelter my 9 year old shoulders. I always wore these little blue leather sandals which were a luxury because the rest of the time I had to wear orthopedic shoes because I was born with club feet that still hurt when I run too much. Even though my hands liked to dig in the dirt and I liked to feel the ground under my bare skin I was never really a tomboy. I wore this purple velvet skirt all the time and I wore my blonde hair long enough that I could sit on it. My hair has always been a security blanket for me and it’s still a defining feature now that it curls around my ears in a way that people seem to like. But at the time, pre-puberty it was always long and slightly tangled and my mom would take it in her fist and pull my head back and threaten to cut it off whenever she was angry, which was often, or when I didn’t brush it, which was almost as often. My house felt bigger then, when my chin was doorknob-level and the swings my dad built made you feel like you were flying. Our house was yellow and green and from the gardens and forests around it you could almost picture it being in some movie, some sun-drenched movie from the 70s and with my long wood-colored hair and outdated sandals I would have fit in. I’ve never looked like the rest of my family, who are all thinner, more angular somehow, and their skin was always freckled and rough. My skin has always been so clear you can see the veins running under the surface and my limbs have always been longer, softer, and I was fat for a few years until I stopped eating altogether and suffered over the calorie count of celery versus carrots and would lie in bed with my head spinning and every bone in my body aching. But that was a different time, and as a child I preferred to lie on the warm sidewalk and watch the cars pass and tell myself that if six cars passed before my mom got home I would be safe and today would be a good day. Sometimes five would pass and it would still be a good day, and sometimes ten would pass and it would be one of the worst yet, but it was a childlike game and it comforted me to think I had control over her actions. That was back when hearing the front door open at 7 made ***** rise in my throat and hearing her 160 pound footsteps on the nubbly carpet outside of my room made my body shut down before her hands even touched the door. There was a technique to turning off your mind. I learned this before I could ride a bike and it all came down to two very simple things: close your eyes, and it will be over soon. You just had to wait things out and afterwards you could run to the bathroom and watch the blood pool in the white porcelain tub and it would slide down, slightly foamy, with hot water that burned over the fresh scars that mingled with faded ones in places my own hands could never reach.
CW for ED and abuse
 Feb 2014 Diana
Ruby Flynn
elizabeth
 Feb 2014 Diana
Ruby Flynn
"everybody i should love, i hate. and everybody i hate..."
my dear, i dont love you.
my body is an empty cavity which contains nothing
but the sounds of isolation and inability.
black are my eyes, because i see the world in a hue of grey,
fitting for someone who has had every ounce of color
drained
by the lack of feeling in my hands.
its not your fault, my dear.
i was just born backwards.
 Feb 2014 Diana
Jazmin Huey
i don't want to be that girl,
the girl that everyone speaks to,
but no one really likes.
the girl who says she's happy
when everyone knows she not.
I don't want to be the girl everyone smiles at,
yet the moment she turns around their whispers stab.
i don't want to be “that girl
the one everyone claims to know
but doesn't know her middle name.
that girl that works so hard to make everyone like her
but only ends up making a fool of herself.
because i shouldn’t be that girl.
I’m The girl.
The girl people look up to
the girl people love to be around
the girl that can light up a room with just one smile
the one that works her back end off for what she wants
the one who will stand for what she believes in.
i want to be the girl who turns the world upside down
the one you can't forget
the one that no matter what happens
will leave her mark on the world.
 Jan 2014 Diana
Diana C
And I no longer look at my favourite picture of us before bed.
I no longer double check your name on my phone to see
If you messaged me.
I no longer anonymously call you when you're at work
just to hear your voice mail.
I no longer go to the store for samples of the cologne you wear.
And even though I no longer do these things
I still long for you.
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