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i dread the day you learn
for the first time that
you can't just love all
the darkness in me away

and no matter how much
you care i will still toss
and turn at night and scars
might still appear on my skin

i dread the day you realize
that you can't cure me
and sometimes all you can do
is stand next to me and
hold my hand through fog
pouring out of my ears so black
and thick we can't even see
each other's faces

i dread the days i can't
get out of bed
the days you want to
take me out and all
i can manage is a prettified
shell of myself

i dread the day you learn
that sometimes no matter
how hard i try i still can't
pull myself together

the day you learn that
there isn't an answer
you can give that will
save me from my fears

you aren't the first person
who has tried to love the
darkness inside away
my family and friends
have given it their all
but someday you too will learn
that if love could
cure mental illness
the world would be
a much better place
copyright 8/6/18 b. e. mccomb
It's kinda funny.
Strangers, online,
Know more about me
Than people
I've known my
Whole life, do.
Y'all know me better than anyone else.
 Sep 2018 John Reilly
the sleek
cool marble
chills run
the stone
and curvatures
of fine hands
and legs
white and pure

her eyes
a fountain of youth
i wish i could bathe in it

her blank gaze
from vacant
rolling ball
falls dreamlessly
into the oblivion

tinkles of music
hum and drone
like spoons
clattering to
the unforgiving ground

her cold heart
as she reclines,
back arched
ever so slightly

she is without
her soul and mind
the marble
her master
keeps her confined-
her own timeless paradigm
a late night release...
 Jun 2018 John Reilly
 Jun 2018 John Reilly
my body is a crime scene
snaked up from behind me, a man slits my tongue
tells me god knows i sinned
tells me god made him sin

but there are no coroners here
the detectives mother the sidewalk
they don't dare cross over to me
they expel my lungs and call to me
they tell me to breathe

he's gone now
but i'm still here
i'm still here
i'm still here
 Dec 2017 John Reilly
As to take my hands
And break every single bone
If you'd only be so kind
Take my heart and leave me alone
But don't touch my mind
My body is yours to harm
But if you'd be so kind
Please, leave me my mind.

My age may harm me in eighty years
And you may still peel my skin from muscle
But if you would show me a kindness
I swear I wouldn't struggle.
Death doesn't scare me
Neither does pain
I can take on the world
With little more than my brain.

I'm liable to survive
Through what I'm put through
Then come back with a vengance
And rip the heart out of you.
So you may hurt me now
Go ahead, be my guest
But if you leave me alive
I'll have your last breath.
Written in 2014 and rotting in my drafts since.
Suffering from depression is like:

biting your nails
when they're already too short

picking at your wounds,
and not allowing them to heal

living in your past,
because you're afraid of the future

feeling lonely,
yet being afraid
to burden other people
with your presence

wanting to get things done,
but being too unsure of yourself
to even try

you want to be happy,
but being sad is what you're most familiar with

you're afraid to live,
and afraid to die,
but you never know which option is worse
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