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 Oct 2018 Julia Friedman
JB
I'm broke
and **** near broken

some days i can't eat at all
other days i eat too much
can't stand to look in the mirror
wishing the number i see on the scale would switch with my grades

things never go the way i want them to

too many dead ends
not enough ways out

got nothing to do
no time soon

i'm often forgotten like snow in summer

i'm breaking out
but not from this hole I'm in

my brain is constantly fizzling
hopefully soon
i'll get tired,
simply fizzle out
so this static can just
        S
    T
  O
       P

i need something,
or someone,
that takes the pain away

that fills my lungs with something other than this
undescribable
endless
void

i'm done
i'm tired of this body and soul

how many pills does it take
until i no longer regenerate?

is this a call for help?
or a way to let it all out?

but when you ask,

I'm fine
I wrote a poem when I died...
Another at my birth.
A brand-new sonnet when I cried.
And again when there was mirth.

A song for my confession...
A story for my pain...
A painting for depression...
And nursery rhymes for rain.

My creations live inside my heart.
I keep them there in shame.
Yet you looked around and saw my art,
And smiled all the same.

— The End —