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 May 2015 Hannah Jo
AP
if i'm awake any longer
this night may be my last
i'll wait to see the sun

and then with the moon
i shall pass

if i'm awake any longer
say your goodbyes
suspended on a beam of clouded dust

a sad star
humming a sadder lullaby

if i'm awake any longer
i'm going to disappear
and with the howl of night

death will remove his sleeve
offering solace as we discuss an end to my *year
 May 2015 Hannah Jo
AP
Is this what it's like to be dead?
Wielding graphite lead as I write sad poems that will never be read
Thrashing and writhing violently in bed, but merely in silence as these words are unsaid
Watching white sheets as they soak up cherry red
Looking on from a distance as weeping people don black threads
Overhearing hesitant and shaky whispers about a boy who bled
Whose overwhelming thoughts were all too much for his head
Now open veins breathe oxygen for the first time and showering streams fall overhead
It's in this stained water I tread, shouting towards the collapsing sky as storm clouds spread
A shaken voice, once again said
Is this what it's like to be dead?
Stressed out, ****** up, broken, and tired,
All thoughts of happiness long since expired.
Words are the only things keeping me sane,
In the same breath, praising/cursing my brain.
10.
I wake up in the morning, my door still locked from the night before
Where I hid myself from the world.
9.
Standing at the bus stop, hoping no one notices the cuts on my wrists or my red, blood shot eyes.
8.
Roaming the halls I generally tried to avoid them, but they always seem to find me, again, and again.
7.
Lunch is the same as always, I'm sitting alone, hoping someone notices me...all I need is a friend.
6.
The bus ride home is full of more taunting...all because I love someone of the same gender...
5.
I finally get home, I do my normal routine, go upstairs to my room, lock the door, and get out my razor.
4.
I'll spend about an hour or so, making the same motions over and over again, thinking...I can't change who I am...
3.
My mom comes home and says that she is starting dinner, I tell her okay, it'll be about an hour.
2.
After dinner I read the texts that the others from school sent me...all the same...mean...discrimination against me...
1.
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.
 May 2015 Hannah Jo
Sarah Kline
at least I got poems and songs out of you
 May 2015 Hannah Jo
Sarah Kline
I got back up by myself then you pushed me back over
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