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I am tired with the feeling of being dismissed, criticized as to what I'm going to do next.
I am tired of forcing myself to choke back the tears, hide my barb-wired stained arms behind a long sleeve sweater.
I am tired of fidgeting to keep my sleeves past mid fingers, because my knuckles are swollen and bruised green and purple from yesterday's misdemeanor.
I am tired of insomnia always wanting to be held by me, being woken every 2 hours as if I was tending to a crying baby.
I am tired of running around and around my brain, always overthinking until I go past insane.
I am tired of how my energy stops out of the blue, leaving me nothing but to stare into the wall dazed and confused.
I am tired of making people run away from my presence, love and hurt and leave me until I'm left too sick to keep myself barely on balance.
I am tired of walking with wobbly and scraped knees, my palms are bleeding with skin peeling off, barely able to write more sad poetry.
I am tired of being hurt by everything and everyone, they say my heart is a blessing, but it has cursed my life since the day I was born.
I am tired of the cruel criticism towards me, years upon years of insecure comments that developed into PTSD.  
I am tired of having to rely on someone else's heart just to make myself feel worthy and complete, I can't help sharing my entire heart just to get it back again obsolete.
I am tired of the sickness that tells me good morning each day, opening my mouth to cleanse my body of the food from yesterday.
I am tired of looking at my skin in the mirror, as my rib cage becomes more visually clearer.
I am tired of breathing in the oxygen plagued with depression, opening my eyes to a vast blur in my vision.
I am tired of smelling the fear raid out of my body, their eyes watch as I shake and choke on my spit as I drown in the sweat caused by my anxiety.
I am tired of feeling incomplete, my hollow heart filled with thoughts of the night my soul fell to my feet.
I am tired of crying on the bathroom floor alone, shaking with ***** dripping from my mouth whilst trying to type for help on my phone.
I am tired of wanting to be loved and adored, knowing full well they'll leave me when they get bored.
I am tired of scrolling through my phone to fill the space of pleasure, because his name is screamed to me until not my legs, but my brain makes me shake as if I was having a seizure.
I am tired of being vocal about my mental illness, if it only brings me back into a bigger mess.
I am tired of ruining everything I touch, shattering like a fallen sculpture, not being able to fix it much.
I am tired of thinking until I get ******, screaming with every  punch on the wall because I'm alone and won't be missed.
I am tired of dreaming what could have been between him and I, instead I begin to think of different ways to die.
I am tired of seeing my window sill every morning, thinking about how I can just jump from it so I can avoid today's daily dooming.
I am tired of talking without words to speak, instead they're drowned out by wails until everything turns bleak.
I am tired of being told I'm going to be a failure, only because my suicidal thoughts have made me unsure.
I am tired of the pressure for me to do better in school, knowing they are just going to insult me for being an emotionally unstable fool.
I am tired of the tears kissing my cheeks goodnight, only to knock me out with the help of the looming monster that is impossible for me to fight.
I am tired of feeling and being weak and fragile, telling myself I'm strong are only words filled with false hope dripping with vile.
I am tired of the days I feel happy and alive, whilst also telling myself this is temporary and will soon deprive.
I am tired of my mouth being sewn shut as to not mutter a single word, trailed off when it finally unravels to people who refuse to have me heard.
I am tired of the numbness in my body after I break down, realizing the man-made tornado had once again ripped into my lonesome town.
I am tired of being alone and having no friends, because I'm still trying to heal from the knife twisted deep into my spine from the last person that wanted my life to end.
I am tired of keeping myself in captivity, when I know that I can free myself to feel amenity.
I am tired of the bipolarity in my decisions, always asking to be left alone but cry when I'm not given attention.
I am tired of being the family burden, an annoyance who can never do right with flaws that can not be undone.
I am tired of getting tangled into the constant mess I put myself in, they say I keep doing this to myself as I place my problems on my head with a pin.
I am tired of being ******* to the strings, in which exhaustion plays and moves me like a puppet's unescapable fling.
I am tired of being tired all the time, it's becoming so hard to find words that rhyme.
I am tired, I am just so
Tired.
Lately has been nothing but terrible outcomes and I feel worn out and exhausted. I don't know how much longer I can keep these shallow breaths going.
 Nov 2017 Molly Nicole
Mey Mc
Tonight my mom is having a manic episode just like I do.
Passed down from generation to generation is a shadow , a void deep within our minds.
I feel ill and twisted. Like the vines growing in my veins , growing thicker and begging to burst. Just so dark crimson can run down my arms , my legs , my eyes. Fading into black and growing thinner. Falling onto dimly lit tiles and rising up as dark smoke.
I am suffocated by my thoughts that are slowly blending into real life. Like paint that is every color of the rainbow being swirled together until it turns sickly green brown, like my eyes.
I admire an iris that hasn't been tainted like mine , diluted , dripping. Eyes that haven't seen what I have as a little hopeless child. A happy child , a sad child , a broken child. It was too real. Too bright and blinding to be nothing.
Shining into my pupils , traveling into my soul, reflecting my being for the world to see. I am ashamed.
I was weak, I am weak. I am sorry mom and dad. That your pain has made me and not your joy.
A product of dark memories and buried thoughts. I tried to hide it, so I wouldn't become worse.
I can't ever promise I will love myself and who I let myself become. The scars have burned too deep; but I will always love you.
I'm trying rlly hard to CHILL but I'm back on that t r a u m a *******.
 Nov 2017 Molly Nicole
bess
Sometimes I wish you were never apart of my life.

But if it wasn't for you, what the hell would be left of me?

Would all of the cuts and scratches and scars disappear? All of these ugly, little things that tell my story would simply evaporate?

It's because of you that I can tell the good days from the bad.

And it's because of you I appreciate the small things.

I appreciate smooth roads because I've driven on rocky.

Some days I close my eyes so tight they hurt. I beg and I beg and I beg that when I wake up, all of the bad is gone.

The memories.

The hurt.

The ache.

But I open my eyes and I'm still just here. So I exist.

And some days, that's all I need to do,

Simply exist.
 Nov 2017 Molly Nicole
alex
when a boy shows you his hands
bare except for the dust
he’s begging you to look past
take them in yours.
squeeze them once.
twice.
say without speaking
that you understand that the valleys
in his palms were meant to cradle
shooting star wishes
that he’s allowed to still hope for.
when a boy shows you his eyes
of milk and crimson and melanin
a bloodshot vein for every night he can’t sleep
let him shut his eyelids.
say without speaking
that you understand that the black hole pinpricks
of his irises hold more than the universe
should allow.
when a boy shows you his soul
shivering but still working toward friction
iced over but still working toward melting
let him come to rest next to yours.
say without speaking
that you understand that he is lonely
and that his silence speaks volumes
and that you kept his treasure close
because you love him.
when a boy shows you his hands
show him your hands.
when a boy shows you his eyes
show him your eyes.
when a boy shows you his soul
show him that
this is a comfortable place to rest it.
when a boy shows you the hardness that shaped him
show him the softness
that you have in store.
k
 Nov 2017 Molly Nicole
lex
memory
 Nov 2017 Molly Nicole
lex
my eyelids still heavy
with the memory of crying,
i only let more tears
make their way down my face.
life lesson: life is hard.
 Nov 2017 Molly Nicole
lex
wax
 Nov 2017 Molly Nicole
lex
wax
candle wax drips
onto my soft hands
burning through,
it seems

but after a while,
i do not flinch
for the pain has become bearable,
feels good, even.
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