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the razors were her best friends
the only source of control of the pain she endured.
her hair was falling out
her skin , pale as the snowy grounds of December.
no one ever cared
until they day she wore short sleeves and everyone got scared
they never care until its too late. but then they swore they cared all along.
Hurt is a beautiful thing.
It’s a collage of broken memories.
It’s visible, yet no one sees.
It’s a swirl of mixed emotions
And full of lost devotions.
It’s almost pain, but not quite there,
Yet still, it’s more than I can bear.

m.c.c.
  May 2014 happily anonymous
Smiles
I wake up every morning with this feeling of dread
Can't escape this groggy feeling left in my head
So I continue to just lay here in my bed
I don't even get up to eat I just sleep here instead
I lay and decompose as my skin starts to shed
Wasting away all the blood that I have bled
My arms dangling off the side drenched in red
My existence is pointless I might as well be dead
I don't care about anything I'm unmotivated this feeling embed
Sew my eyes and my mouth shut with needle and thread
Tie me down and pump my stomach with meds
Take a gun to my skull and fill me with lead
My sin is sloth you haven't misheard and you havent misread
I'm not okay don't believe those lies you've been fed
My deadly sin.
  May 2014 happily anonymous
Love
Eat
Is that the lowest moment?
When you don't dare to wear shorts because of the scars that cover your legs.
And then you're sitting there at the dinner table with your family,
And they keep on telling you to eat,
But all you mutter is "I'm not hungry",
When you actually are.
You're starving but your image is worth more than a meal.
You eat a few bites just to shut them up,
And then run to the bathroom to rid yourself of it,
To make sure you can fit into those jeans,
The ones that could stand you losing another 5 pounds.
You get used to the lies of:
"I'm not hungry"
"I ate before I came"
And "oh yeah I'm fine, just tired".
Is that your lowest point,
When the only food you're feeding yourself is lies?
I simply cannot reopen my old wounds
and expose my weaken, crippled heart.
to break down these cement walls for you to just tear me apart.
the risk is way too major to just open up and let you in
how do I love when the demons are deep within
love is very scary
I write
because I cannot speak.
I cannot say these things in front of you,
I cannot peel apart my ribs and expose my heart.
To do so would **** me.
but on paper, I only bleed.
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