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  May 2018 Alec
Anne Scintilla
Paper cuts on wrist linger:
     like trickles of pain,
     bearable to hold;
     with trickle of tears,
     little to be told.

Invisible abrasions:
    on skin so precious,
    patches of triumph;
    the battle rages on,
    wince at every sting.

Unnecessary bandages:
    don't elevate pain,
    hide struggles under;
    to embrace each scrape,
    takes more than courage.
    
Petroleum jelly helps:
    fingertips cover,
    dollops to ease itch;
    sometimes humans need,
    catalysis to heal.
hello. this is for those who are struggling. you are not alone, please seek someone, or something to help the healing process. healing takes time and, most of the time, not necessarily need to be done alone.

[i'm sorry for being inactive. i'll try my best to update frequently.]
Thank you for reading.
AS
  May 2018 Alec
mikah
last night i got angry
        it was a very strange feeling because
i've never really gotten   angry before


i got so angry i went outside and
                ripped 3 branches of leaves from a bush

i stared at them
               a plant's livelihood
sitting in my hand
and suddenly i was a murderer

i began to cry
and cry and cry
i didn't want to get that angry
or go ballistic
but i felt mad
in more ways than one.
this is like a diary entry, a personal anecdote for me. it might be hard to relate to this, but sometimes poems are just meant as a release. this one is. please enjoy all the same!
  May 2018 Alec
Lyn-Purcell
In
the case of
being between the
Devil and the deep blue sea
I'd rather see red than have
a blackened
soul
How colours speak their own language...
  May 2018 Alec
Vale Luna
A love so fragile
That it hurts when I breathe
Shattered memories
Swept by the breeze

A love so scrambled
That it leaves me confused
My heart’s been abused
Black and blue bruised

A love so tangled
That it ends up in knots
A tied-up blood clot
Starting to rot

A love so unraveled
That it loses control
A physical toll
Burnt on my soul

A love so fragile
That is breaks when I try
Starting to know why
I do nothing but cry.
  May 2018 Alec
Willow
What if it was us.
The bench held two
The car held two
The trail held two
The sand held two
The stereo held two
What if it was us?

What if it was you.
The bench took your time
The car lifted your spirits
The trial brought your journey
The sand held your footprints
The stereo held your thoughts.
What if it was you?

What if it was me.
The bench held my hopes
The car drove my dreams
The trail took my eyes
The sand held my breath
The stereo held my words
What if it was me?

What if it was us.
What if the bench held our heads
What if the car carried our baggage
What if the trial took our hands
What if the sand caught our falls
What if the stereo said our intentions

What if it was us?
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