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 May 2018 Kat
 May 2018 Kat
Music loud
Voices silent
Outside is dark
Lights are bright

Stiff bed
Stuck to the pillows
Little footsteps
Creaky floor

Muscles still
Mind racing
Staring at the reflection
Touch the special glass

Drag hands down
Little footsteps
Creaky floor
Pull the string

Darkness finally
Music off
Sit in silence
Mind in arguments


Wrench hands to head
And scream in silence
Eyes are wet
And tears fall down

Drown in bed
Trying to suffocate
More thoughts pour in
Can’t breathe

Clogged nose
Stuffed up throat
Aching head
Eyes of waterfalls


Rub away tears
Reach for it
With shaking hands

“I’m sorry.”
 May 2018 Kat
 May 2018 Kat
Where I am most insecure,
his fingertips caress my skin.
When I whisper his name,
he responds with a kiss.

Where bruises and scars stain my flesh,
his love washes away the sin.
The memories that still hurt my soul
he brushes away with his lips.

Like beautiful cursive letters,
he draws lines of love on my body that heals
and he writes a scripture of lust
that only he can read, and only I can feel.
 May 2018 Kat
Broken Angel Wings
"Just eat."
The words that sunk into my brain like an anchor
It's easy to breezily dismiss my problems,
But they are much harder to fix.
My illness may inflict me with pain,
But I gain control.
Control over what I eat,
Control over the number on the scale,
Control over my life.
I just strived for perfection
I strived so much that it became an addiction
An addiction that I couldnt control anymore
No food after 10.
No sweets.
No fats.
No meat.
Every time I ate anything above 300 calories,
I would spend hours sitting on the bathroom floor, hovering over the toilet with a spoon in my throat
Until everything is gone,
No more food or pride left in my system
The only thing left was my self-hate, self-pitty, and eating disorder
 May 2018 Kat
Broken Angel Wings
The pretty girls who spend hours in their room,
Counting calorie after calorie
As if each one was their last.
Shattering themselves into tiny peices
Until no one could pick up the glass
Of their broken ribcages
And crushed dreams
Wasting themselves away in order perfect
This might be a little triggering
 May 2018 Kat
Best way to die
 May 2018 Kat
Hey Mr, Could you tell me
Whats the best way to die?
There are so many different reasons
I don't know which one to try

Should I, Slit my wrists in a vertical direction
Watch the blood drip down, As a desperate need for affection
The blood draining from my body to surround me in a crimson red, would I finally then feel happiness spread

Should I, Overdose on drugs? Illegal or Prescription?
Feel the nausea and vomiting decay my body, As nobody ever listened.

Should I, Drown myself in the bathtub? Or the pool to make it public
The crushing pressure of my lungs collapsing, As if i am absolutely nothing. A burning feeling will spread through my chest as if I am to burst
But dont look down into the depth cause surely you'll feel worse

Should I, Step onto the highway? With all the cars at top speed
Allow the pain of my bones breaking, As I only wanted to be needed
The impact could still render me alive, But in a world of agonising pain, then everything I had done will surely be in vain

Should I, Light myself on fire? Or torch me and my home
Let the searing flesh melt off of me, As I was always left alone
They will hear my screams for miles to come, but know that it was me
As my charred corpse will remain, forever left unseen

Should I, Hang myself in the closet? Let my mother find me dead
Feel the tightening rope cut short my breath, As nobody heard what I said. My limp blue body will dangle down with a note left by my bed

Should I, Jump off a high building? A tall place with strong winds
For a moment I can fly away, before I splatter across the ground leaving nothing but my outline and some red

Should I, Shoot myself in the head? Allow myself to pull the trigger
A gunshot will echo, I'll fall to the ground, Then I would finally be dead.
I wouldn't feel a single thing just the hurt of those before me
It would be instant and over in a second, that way their tears wont bore me

So Mr, Could you tell me
The best way that I can die?
You've played this game before
So hurry there is no need to lie

Hey Mr,
Its not like you actually care
Whether I personally live or die
So hurry up and tell me
As he's waiting for me in the afterlife
What is the best way to die?
 May 2018 Kat
I don't know what I am doing wrong
We were friends for so long

I tried so hard
But you played me like a card

I don't know what else to say
Our friendship might just have to lay

It was nice knowing you
I hope you at least feel the same way too

Maybe we will know why this happened
Our friendship will have to be imagined

Hopefully I won't cry
But I believe this is goodbye...
 Apr 2018 Kat
Does a poet write only when he is sad?
Doesn't think so
But have heard so

Does a poet write only when he is upset?
Is writing a way to escape
From the world that hurt you a little too much?

Does a poet write only when he is depressed?
Why is his happiness not penned down?
Why is his prosperity not shared?

A poet doesn't write only when he is sad
All feelings, all happiness, all emotions
All of this is written

He writes when he is happy
He writes about the nature
He writes about everything and everyone

Poems are not always meant to be sad
They contain hope, love, peace
And so much more
The longest i have written. Iam a person who always writes when iam a little down but lately i have been thinking why not write about happiness. I wrote this after reading other poems  which spread happiness. This is dedicated for those people who inspired me to write this.
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