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 Mar 2018 nycteris
She Writes
**** doesn’t always hide
At parties and outside clubs
**** doesn’t always hide
In dark alleys and empty parking lots
Sometimes it is right in front of you
But you choose to look the other way
**** doesn’t always hide
Behind the faces of strangers in the night
Sometimes it is hiding behind the closed doors
Of your uncles
Cousins
Fathers
And brothers
**** isn’t always loud-
Screaming, yelling, and crying
Sometimes **** is quiet-
Gasping for air and silent tears
 Mar 2018 nycteris
Jack
A painful tear leaks from my eye,
It screams a terrible sound,
A sound so loud but unheard from all around,
It flows down my cheek and seeps into the ground,
“Help him”, it cries “he wants to die”
 Feb 2018 nycteris
darktowers
As i live in a haze
What a daze to be
This grayscale of life
What drag to my existence

Can i not alleviate
My mind
Will my life always
Be torturous

Will i always have
This agonizing reminders
Failures of my past
To leave me awake at night

Can i ever make it stop
I just don't know
 Feb 2018 nycteris
darktowers
death
 Feb 2018 nycteris
darktowers
As my body turns to rust
I write ****** on this page
Watch my heart turn to stone
As I die with no hope
Iv forgotten your name
But you know what
I am
Remember my name
Forget my face
The stars chants my name
For I am a man of  darkness
 Jan 2018 nycteris
S P Lowe
ADHD
 Jan 2018 nycteris
S P Lowe
sometimes
                                                       ­                         my
                                     ­ brain
                       doesn’t
                                                       ­     work

right
                                                ­                               and

                             my

                                              thoughts

     ­                                         scatter

               ­                                                    like
                               beads

                                     spilled
                               on
                                                              ­                 tile

floor
 Jan 2018 nycteris
imperfectwords
"I can see my door, my bed, my window, my chair, and my table.

"I can feel my spine against the wall, my feet against the floor, my jaw tightly shut, and my fingernails buried in my arms.

"I can hear the wind coming in from the open window, my heartbeat rapidly thumping, and that familiar voice in my head, shouting once again.

"I can smell the dampness of the ground outside as the breeze carries it to my room, and the sickly sweet odor from the soap used on my hands.

"I can ******* blood spilling from the bite in my lip; my last harsh reminder that
        I
        am      
        still
        alive.
When you call a suicide prevention hotline, they will often ask you to describe to them 5 things you can see, 4 things you can feel, 3 things you can hear, 2 things you can smell, and 1 thing you can taste to help ease anxiety. I hope this poem helps someone struggling to look forward, because believe me, it does get better.
Death rolled in again, rippling waves in my calmed brain.
They said he almost made it to the door, but bled out on the kitchen floor.

I think of you, and him, and him, and the others who kissed the hand of whatever god.
They're not real anymore, but we're they Ever anyway.

The gold Lockett cracked, and the speaker blew out. The casket finally closed, the family guests walked out.

I push everyone away, so I don't see them die. The burdens too great, the risk of goodbye.

Alone for now, and alone forever, because every season ends, and I barley make it through December.

Every year repeats, the variables appear, "y" equals me and "X"isn't there

Don't cry for the song, cheer to remember. I'll see you in the summer, then I'll die in December
 Aug 2016 nycteris
Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
 Aug 2016 nycteris
Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
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