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  Nov 2016 Marissa
I am obsessed,
With an unreasonable,
Amount of pilots.
21 to be exact
Marissa Nov 2016
Thank you Twenty One Pilots for all you've done for the broken people.
You've cured some of the ones who have tried their suicidal session.
You've shown us that you know what it feels like to suffer.
You've told us that the hardest nights will get brighter when the sun comes up, and we can try again.
You've been a friend when we've needed one the most.
You've described the destructive thoughts as metaphors that we can find hope from.
You've combined ukulele music with screamo and made it art.
You've given us lyrics to find the motivation to keep going.
You've told us to stay alive, so that's what we do.
Stay alive |-/
  Oct 2016 Marissa
Sara Went Sailing
When cancer spread into her brain abruptly
Like funnels tunneling down the bathtub drain
It crushed my heart to mortared mush of sadness
She knows me not, so in my heart it rains
In panicked waves emotions overcome me
I leave the "Memory Unit" and feel sick
Her memories are all gone and they're forgotten
I have the urge to journal mine real quick

Written by Sara Fielder © May 2013
Marissa Oct 2016
Uncle Doug,
Today was a day that I hoped for, but also dreaded for.
I've been hoping to see you one last time,
but I've dreaded knowing that it might be the last.
Today I saw you at your worst.
The cancer was eating all the good things inside of you.
The one thing that cancer did not take was your smile.
It was painfully small, but still a smile.
Today I told you that I loved you.
I've meant to say it more in all of these years.
But at least you heard it again today.
Today was the last day that I'll be able to hug you.
I'll never forget how you squeezed me a little tighter before we let go.
I'll never forget.
I'll never forget.
Yours truly,
Cancer f****ing *****.
Marissa Oct 2016
On that perfect night, my high beams glowed into the foggy distance.
I held down a button to let the cool air blow my hair out the window.
Of course I am harmonizing to my choral music but my mind is somewhere else.
I knew I had to keep my eyes on the road, but the full moon that shone so gracefully through the rearview mirror was impossible not to gaze upon.
Marissa Oct 2016
Being suicidal
is like driving
up to a yellow light.
Always making
quick decisions
whether to stop
or to keep going.
Marissa Aug 2016
A pen running out of ink
assisted me with getting out my thoughts
on to paper.
These thoughts aren't really a poem.
Unless someone comes around
thinking it's a masterpiece without
a signature.
But still I could.
I could sign my name at the bottom
at top speed
like signing my life away to this very pen.
This pen I hold
that I probably found on the side
of a road
has helped me through a lot.
This pen has helped me
pass a nursing test.
This pen has helped me write a dozen speeches
to give in front of church.
This pen has helped me from
taking too many pills
or making a checkerboard
on my wrist.
This pen.
So simple
yet so ordinary.
11:30 pm
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