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Don't know what to feel,
Don't know where to go,
Can someone **** me?
Can you please just let me go?

I don't know what to think,
Don't know what to believe is real,
Just sitting in the corner,
Crying my eyes out.

Slowly runs the blade across her arm,
Feels the sting of pain,
Sees the blood flowing down,
Around the wrist and hand,
Intertwining her fingers.
  May 2014 Forgotten Dreams
Jordan Cole
Drip, drip, drip
Goes my blood onto the sparkling white porcelain.
Blood pooling from my arm,
running down to my fingertips.
The velvety red liquid making me feel something for once,
in this cruel heartless world of ours.
The blood loss making me feel light,
giving me release from the pain I constantly live in.
Giving me escape from the real world.
The blood is running down the sink,
leaving a trail of bright red.
I watch it go down,
like my spirits.
I look into the mirror and look at what I see.
A scared, hurt, ugly little girl.
One who knows too much pain and judgement,
at such a young age.
Why is it that society tells us that we are stupid, ugly, fat and worthless?
Making us feel so pathetic,
that we turn to alcohol, drugs and self-harm.
I look at the girl staring back at me and I begin to sob.
I see every imperfection, because that's what society has taught me to see in myself.
I clean up my arm and the sink.
Turning on my computer, I see two things;
Girls trashing one another and calling each other *****,
and people saying not to listen to "The Haters", that it gets better.
Turning off the social media,
I turn my gaze to the window and I begin to think.
Why does it matter what anyone else thinks?
Why do I always feel like this?
Giving myself a headache,
I get up to go get some alive.
I see my hookah pin.
In and out goes the smoke through my lungs.
The smoke forms a pure white cloud around me and I'm enchanced.
It all looks so pure and beautiful,
yet it is so harmful.
Just like your words that you throw around.
And once you let go of them, you can't get them back.
You make people feel pathetic and worthless,
even though we are SO much more than your words.
We are people who have been put through HELL,
yet we are still here and fighting.
You of all people can't and won't bring me down.
Of course, that's what I always say.
And yet, I go to bed.
Knowing that even when I close my eyes,
the cycle of hell I live in will continue to fling me around.
And it will all just repeat,
Tomorrow.
Moral: Watch what you say to/call people. Your words DO cause damage.
Don't tell people it's gets better. It doesn't help anything. Just let them know you are there to listen to them if they get the urge to self-harm. Knowing they have someone who cares helps. Trust me.
Girls, lets all just stop calling each other ****** and *****. It sends guys the message that it is okay for them to do so, when we all know that it isn't.
Lastly; If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all. That includes posting it on social media for everyone to see. It humiliates you and the other person. Act like a mature human thing and go talk it out.
  May 2014 Forgotten Dreams
it's ok
Because you gotta leave
and I have so many emotions
and you're busy all the time
and I'm bipolar and don't expect
you to deal with my lows
and you're bad at it
and I'd rather deal with myself
and you constantly tell me to take medication

We don't talk
because I don't want to look at you
and emotions numbed me
and you don't want to speak to me
and my lows are happening more and more
and it's scaring me
and you can't bother with me
because i don't want to deal with myself
so I'd rather drown myself in medication
  May 2014 Forgotten Dreams
MST
Why does this world seem so dark,
with ****** and suicide at every channel,
with a **** in some unknown country up on a panel.
And yet we continue to live our lives,
filled with thoughts of insults on people we barely know,
stabbing one another with thoughts shaped like knives.
And then when we are hit with a catastrophic moment,
where someone is dead who was close to our hearts,
and only then is when our empathy starts.
I had a friend die today who I hadn't spoken of in years,
yet I do not find myself in tears,
he was a man who had lived his life,
but took it away when filled with strife.
Yet I cannot bring myself to believe,
that people will put up faces to deceive.
Our selfish desires make us look past them,
forgetting that we could be where the problems stem.
And how can there be such selfish desires,
to ******, steal and start fires.
We desire money and pride,
while looking past societies suicide.
So maybe if we look into ourselves,
and realize we are just one of many on the shelves,
to care and protect should be our main goal,
not to just live and collect our toll.
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