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 Jun 2016 Miles Halter
Quiet desperation for the bliss of change.
Cold comfort is painful, home feels strange.
Ah taking the lashing of repressed days.
Loss of all passion, I'm stuck in the maze.

Still awake at 3 am
Listening to a mellow song
Waiting for the sun to rise
Holding back the tears in my eyes

Still up at 3 am
Doing some flashback
What happened to us
A love that I fully trust

Still sleepless at 3 am
"It's not you it's me" your voice still echoing
My heart was ripped in thousand pieces
And seems was drop into different places

Still not in bed at 3 am
Holding a bottle of beer
Wishing it can help me heal
Hoping it can erase what I feel

Still wide awake at 3 am
Maybe it just don't fit right at all
Waiting for the sun to rise for me to traces
To start anew and pick up... my broken heart pieces...

written: Oct. 7, 2014

Mysterious Aries
To love and to be in love are very different.
Just like to be loved and to be valued. Learn the difference.
You see,
I am an artist

I draw with silver
But it comes out red
I relapsed. 0 days clean....
 May 2015 Miles Halter
Jake Hicks
I stand. Surrounded by the darkness
That I create.
I wave it away.
It hovers out of reach.
Close enough to been seen,
Far enough away to relax.
Fear, doubt, anxiety.
Fear, clawing.
Doubt, with sharp teeth.
Anxiety, with its insect touch.
And lord of all, depression,
With his dark cloak ready
To blot out the light.

Squaring shoulders.
Narrowing of eyes.
I stand, drawing a sword of light,
Names engraved on the blade.
They give me strength.
The ones that depend on me to
Never quit, never submit, never stop.

And yet, no matter how the fight ends
I stand.
They stand. We stare at each other.
For now.
I will never quit.
Nor will they. They are part of me.
My ex inspired this one. We all have demons. How hard we fight and how it ends depends solely on the fighter.
In fifth grade,
they called me gay.

In sixth,
they called me ***.

In eigth,
I tried to end my life for the first time.
The second time shortly after.

In ninth,
I came to grips with my sexuality.
I tried to end my life for the third and fourth time.
My parents told me that I wasn't going to heaven.

In tenth,
I lost all of my friends and found my first love.
I fell in love with a broken CD.
The sharp edges would tear my skin like paper.
That year I tried for the fifth and sixth time.

Present day,
I'm in love with someone but they don't know yet.
My last attempt, number 7, was more than a year ago.
There is a sadness inside of me,
Deeper than the depths of any oceans known.
Where I was, was bad,
But where I am is worse.
I feel like they’re taking away who I am,
Filling my bloodstream with anti-depressants,
Forcing me to become someone I’m not
Someone I don’t want to be.
The fact remains that my sadness defined me
Struggling against the medication
Desperately attempting to hold onto the part of me that’s me
Wanting so badly for my days to mean something
Instead of the same bland depressing schedule I face everyday
The pills do nothing but supress my suicidal thoughts to my subconcious
So I'm forced to fake a smile, one unlike any other.
This one is to keep them from increasing my dosage,
And I'm scared.
I've never felt so alone
This is what I get
For asking for help
Little discs used to make us happy
Like miniature frisbys flying into our mouths
Getting lost in the trees
The branches tangled and knotted
Unable to escape.
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