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 29° 
Simoné
It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived
 17° 
Nylee
In the torch of fire,
someone is burning,
dying every second
to keep the flame alive
.
 17° 
Angelica
The first time she looked up
She fell in love with the sky
Her heart reaching higher
The only answer was to fly

So she made wings of her heart
Carved dreams into feathers
Bid farewell to earth
And fluttered towards ether

But gravity loved her too
Had no intention to let go
Pulled her firmly to the ground
And broke her wings in woe
Go ahead
hold me a little longer
than usual.
You say to me,
without using any
words at all,
"it should have been me,
its still me."
Like i don't already see
those sky blue eyes
every time i close my own.
Because we're still holding
on to god knows what.
Because it is you
and it will always be you.
 13° 
Nylee
wherever I will go
he'll move away
tilted reality
unaware, I am,
he's passing me
changing his paths
so we never meet ever
but we are together
for a second
holding our breath
blinking our eyes
beneath the blue skies
.
 10° 
Midnight
Your naked body
Pressed on mine
We kissed

I thought that
I should feel
Something

Thrill, euphoria
Lust, love
Or bliss

But no
I felt
Nothing
And I'm very sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me.  You are everything I have ever wanted, but for some reason touching you leaves me blank.  I feel nothing.  And I am sorry.
 10° 
Nylee
not important
not me
not much
not enough
no one
none.
 9° 
Trey Remulla
i used to send you memes,
it's no longer a habit of my day.
i realized i haven't sent any in a while,
i miss our old ways.
 9° 
Jude
I despise myself for not being someone you could love.
 8° 
yúyīn
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Youllneverunderstand me
 7° 
devante moore
He’s no longer responding
It’s perplexing
Because no one knows why
Yesterday he was doing just fine
And in this room it’s frightening quite
Because everyone knows he’s about to die
His mother angrily yells at the doctor
While she stands over his bed
Why! Why!
My baby
This is my son
And he’s not going to die
Devante Devante
I can hear her repeating my name
But the sounds of the world has finally gone mute
And the lights of the room ceiling
Slowly
Fade to black
And if you crying over my shoulder right now
I’m sorry
I tried to fight it
But I just couldn’t fight my way back
I was to lost
Let myself be overcome with pain and misery
Unhappiness was my purgatory
But at what cost
My life
Yes my life
I gave it away
I’d do anything just to feel a little less
It’s why I injected myself
With an illegal amount
Of morphine
 7° 
Libeth
Sitting in the living room while you’re on the computer
What are you looking at?
Leaning closer and you turn off the monitor
Are you hiding something?
What could it be?

Knocking on the door everyday
Oh no, who’s that other woman?
That’s not mother.
Mother doesn’t look like that.
That’s not mother’s voice.

Why is she in our house?
Why are you taking her to your bedroom?
Don’t understand.

Too young to understand
Got older
Realized what he had done

Filled with hatred because of you
You’ll never be forgiven
Not from me, not from mother
Disappear from my life.
 6° 
Druzzayne Rika
I'm all over the internet,
but you won't see me.
 6° 
Ashly Kocher
As I read a Facebook post
I immediately get angered...
Someone had announced they were expecting their 4th child, they found out with a girl...
They went for another ultrasound and to their surprise it wasn’t a girl after all
It was a boy (“it” was hiding)

They posted a status saying “feeling emotional”
“Felling depressed “
I thought to myself “why?” Your having a healthy baby...
I continued to read and it says..
“ We are depressed because we wanted a baby girl, please pray for us during this difficult time and we now adjust to having another boy”
I was confused because your blessed to have another child as so many (like myself) aren’t blessed to have children...
I understand you were happy when you were told it was a girl, but to post your upset and please pray for us?
I don’t understand that part....
Many people around the world would be overjoyed to have a child and your depressed over this....
So sad, especially when you write this on a social media site for all to see...
I pray that you love this healthy child and come to realize how blessed you are to have baby #4......
Rant over.... sorry I just don’t understand people sometimes...
 5° 
Nylee
Wrapped in silk and satin
she has been waiting
long.
She doesn't expect him
not anymore, but habit
stays.
She nor grins,nor frowns
standing at the end of her lawn
alone.
The day count lost numbers,
lost many days and slumber
hours.
Hope faded, love went,
only she stayed
so far
.
 5° 
Nylee
This adulthood is the most uncomfortable place I'm in,        
it will not come to an end soon like all the good things do.
Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t just been the backseat of your car,
Intoxicated. My first drunk hook up. My first. Period.
I picture myself being champagne on Valentine’s Day.
I picture myself being you, nervous in the car, holding Starbucks
because you know I love coffee. Sometimes, I picture myself as her,
calling you a stalker and ignoring your calls,
but then I see myself. I call you beautiful,
turn you into poetry, laugh at your bad jokes,
I see myself as I become your drunk Wednesday night
when you’re sad. I see myself as I say no,
I become a “this is not a good idea”
and you a “we’ll deal with the consequences in the morning.”
We laugh because this hurts too much.
You take her out for dinner and I burrow money
for Plan B because you forgot you don’t like condoms
and clearly have no idea how children are made.
I have already named him. He has your curls and
my anxiety. He is smart. Except, I never wanted kids and
you would be a great father. Instead, you tell her
the beach reminds you of her and I cry in a McDonald’s
bathroom with my friend as relief floods through me that
the test comes negative. I stop talking to you,
move forward, meet someone new and before long
see myself becoming you. Because isn’t that the cycle?
Bad men turn good women into bad women who turn
good men into bad men. I’ll set him free so he can hurt
someone like me, and I drink red wine as I read her
poems about him and me.
i’d rather write about the freckles on your back than think about all of the ways in which you quite possibly don’t love me.

i feel sick at the very thought of you picking me apart the way you did; fingers grabbing and stroking in a catastrophic symphony of skin and vulnerability.

let’s read between each other’s lines; share my sentences and punctuate my paragraphs with your mouth; because i can breathe easier on the mornings where i wake up wrapped around you.

because my moods change like the goddamn seasons and the spinning in my head doesn’t want to stop.
                                         you tell me that i should probably get a therapist because no one that thinks about all the ways in which they could kill themselves has an ounce of mental stability.
                                          i tell you that i have been to four.
                                          names faded into a blur with hazy snippets of conversation remaining.
20mg.
                    30mg.
you tell me that trust issues and scars aren’t endearing and i tell you that neither is counting up the potential number of pills needed to dissolve your body into the living room carpet.

let me sink inside your skin and make a home in your flesh;
i tell you about the nights where i lay awake in the bath turning the water red.
                       tragic, isn’t it.

you tell me that this isn’t how my head should work and i tell you that i already know. everything you could possibly tell me i already know.
i know that 400 calories a day isn’t normal, and my hands shouldn’t shake all the time.
                                             i know.
please let me stitch myself into you, even just for a while; until i no longer feel dizzy and my world stops spinning.
i don’t need you to tell me that it will be okay, because honestly i don’t think it will be and, that in itself, is okay.
                                                                ­                 let me stitch myself into you, because my own skin can’t take it anymore.

let me call you back when my voice stops wobbling and my vision straightens out, but honestly, i’m terrified that it never will. what if this is it. headaches and tears and shaking and blood.
                                             and the debilitating, gut-wrenching feeling of pure and euphoric emptiness.

                                              tragic, isn’t it.
 5° 
Nylee
who is to blame
for the flame that burns me within
my destiny's storm.

who is to blame
when everything remains the same
it is always the constant pain.

who is to blame
surprisingly locked in frame,
I better learn to refrain.

who is to blame
by everyhow the entirety came
apart, nothing left to claim.

what is to be done
when nothing can be undone
so all I have is the blame
.
 5° 
Hannah rose
He doesn’t like to cuddle. He likes to grip my hips and touch my lips, But only when it suits him. He sticks his head out my window because its too hot in my room and he doesn't like the sound of my fan easy.Breath.caffeine.breeze. We laugh quietly and kiss quietly and moan quietly. He mouths vulgar things that make me giggle in front of our friends. I run my hand along the seam off his far too expensive shorts We take every opportunity to be with each other to talk , to feel, so secretly. So public. Exhibitionist pleasure. We talk night after night rapidly and vigorously and trip over each others sentences like a sidewalk crack. He says “her” like it means “amen” i say “us” pretending i could be them.We get drunk off of music  and skin and things we love. His smile erupts across his face like it could shatter his cheekbones. His eyes glimmer like a lake catching the glare of the moonlight.He loves to be so much taller  than me. He thinks it makes him wiser. We spend a lot of time in my room with the doors shut. (We spend a lot of time outside of my room with our mouths shut.) I always wake up first. I lay there looking at him Vulnerable and quiet with the occasional sleep talk. Soft face. Soft sounds.We bond over love for our friends We fight over who gets the corner in my bed.
We tease and We kiss, ooh we kissed.
He loves classical music. We listen in silence.I sit on his stomach and laugh maniacally and pout my lips when he won’t be fair.
He is my occasional constant.
i think i'm falling in love with him.
I think he's fallen for her.
 5° 
mollie
sitting underneath the stairs, i realized suddenly:
i could die here.

i could die here,
and would anyone know?
i could die here, under the dirty staircase,
and nothing would change.

a friend of mine came for me eventually;

someone i don't know too well,
but well enough.

and she squeezed my hand and told me,
"you're not alone."

as my breathing grew ragged and my chest constricted and my eyes ached, i belatedly realized that was the most terrifying prospect of all.
only thing worse than feeling alone is knowing that so many others feel alone... hope everyone out there is feeling loved.
 4° 
Keith Wilson
It's a dull cold March morning
No sign of spring
 4° 
Cameron Canada
I'm floating.
The ocean mist in my face,
The sun in my eyes.
I feel nothing.
No pain,
No suffering,
I'm away from all the lies.

My cloud floats
Away from the sea,
Towards mountains
And forests;
I get lost in the trees.
Lost in a world
Where no one hears me scream.
Lost,
But found.

I step down,
Feel the earth,
Taste the air and the breeze.
I run far away,
Away from the trees.
I see where I've been,
Where I wish I could be.
Maybe, here,
I can be my own tree.

I stop growing.
I can't hear the world,
It doesn't need me anymore.
Somewhere distant,
I hear someone open a door.
My name is called...
I walk into the cold.
Put on a smile,
Play fake happy.
I'm good at doing what I'm told.
 4° 
beyza kaya
these songs are dedicated to those hours late into the night; when the sky gravitates towards the end of the colour spectrum, in which the hues collide, to create an illusion as mesmerising as the look in her eyes when he smiles. because the way the notes grazed her ear drums, as they lift themselves hazily off of the sheet, is one way to describe how it feels when she hears his voice; his laugh encompassing her whole being, enclosing her in a tight embrace.

i sincerely apologise to all the songs i've ruined and stained with the damned memory of you.
inspired by a playlist made for my then-bf, these songs will never sound the same to me.
 3° 
Debanjana Saha
What to do when depression
Strikes again
With more of strength
And me falling weak & apart
Unable to get up from bed
For day or two
Unable to scream for help
Or speak up what's wrong
Lying there like a dead
Waiting for the depression storm to pass
I get up from square one
When it passes
But the destruction still remain
Taking one step at a time
To reform oneself
And fix the armour more stronger
Than ever
To wish for more strength
To weaken the depression storm
And make myself more stronger.
Depression is real. It hits hard and makes oneself paralyzed. How to overcome, still strategizing for years. To make oneself more stronger and finding ways to help oneself when no one around.
 3° 
Cassian
Dad
You always point out every flaw dad
Always reminding me of everything I do wrong
You never cared how I felt dad
Always comparing me to someone else
I already know how stupid I am dad
Believe me I’ve been told thousands of times
That’s why I want to move away from you
You’ve made me feel alone dad
While still saying you’re my friend
I cared but you didn’t
That was my problem I accept responsibility for that
But the hardest part about letting go is that
I’ll never hear you running after me
Deep into the cold
 3° 
Melissa S
I listened to my inner voice....
When I was filled with fear, when I learned at a young age that real monsters do exist and they are not like the ones in any story book I ever read. The monsters stole away any normal childhood that I could of or should of had.  Pain muted my words from flowing and poisoned my thoughts into growing... this is why I trusted no one.  
At the time I had no other choice... when I was
really the only friend I could totally depend on and count on
I listened to my inner voice...


I listened to my heart...
When all I could hear was a pounding in my ears, when all around me was like a crazy chaotic whirlwind screeching like a barred owl that would then break apart into tiny pieces and sink into a cold abyss forgotten by the sea.  I couldn’t forget the grief as it was real and still inside me. There was a brokenness about me my
heart was fragile and it balanced on the tip of my own desperation
but still I listened to my heart...
          
I listened to the words...
Slowly but surely I was able to come out from that darkened sea and was finally able to try and heal me. Words became my saving grace. I learned to not have muted lips and could give myself a fighting chance. I was able to tear down some of those protective walls to try again to live only in this moment without the armor and the hesitation. Writing became my new love... together we became an inseparable piece of one existence...
I felt so much better after I listened to the words ....
 3° 
Druzzayne Rika
The chances are never perfect
I am disappointed
because the world has never stood up to
what is ideal
what is right is hidden behind the veil
Innocents are tested each time
and the fight goes on.

Bending the rule,
using people as tool
dead and alive
making every fool
and the normalcy
spreading this sickness
over what is going on
so wrong.

Moving on
getting over it
forgetting every little bit,
we stick to our lives
protecting us
what possibly how
we can also be duped
and save ourselves
from becoming the national news.
systole, the eyes
that never saw,
the children who
made pillars out of
their tears,
building forts
out of fear
and pure wretchedness,
born in allleyways
and downgraded
to accidents,
eating from
the hand that
coloured their bodies
blue,
pure neglected art,
the beauty of their
red rimmed eyes
and the yellowing
skin, like suns
that  grew from
their blackhole dreams,

who saw strangers on the
street
and when
their hands brushed
they called it -- "love",
who sobbed into
bedsheets
as tyrants
searched  for paradise
in the scars of
their misery,
their nightmares filled
with doctors who
would ask them
"where did they touch you"

Animals at a zoo,
a mere curiousity,
a mediocre pastime,
when they saw them
they thought of alcoholic fathers
-- a sub species of human,

they fell so far into the cracks
that they landed on earth
to experience our hell,
the versatile law
and our novelties,
the system raised a fist
and so did the fosters,
parental imposters,
and the child who deserved
the alters of Olympus
-- called it kindness,


their hearts suffered
in low ceiling rooms
and brick arched windows,
polished brass knob doors,
threaded traps of cobweb,
  A dose of sermons,
a memorial service the next,
children who dangled from ceilings,
suffocating on their self proclaimed
prophecies,
reptiles that grew in the skeletons of
their bodies,
suicidal for gold,
to be told
of flowers
and to be held
in the arms of a mother,
to be chased down
the streets like a flightless
canary,
while the earth drank
in their laughter,

kids that were once here
who breathed as if each
breath was thinning,

who became so small
that they disappeared.
One of my friends grew up in the foster system, its been painful seeing how much its changed her.
 2° 
SG Holter
Even as dying, I have no time
For bitterness.

Life was too short,
Even before.

Each step holds gratitude for the sound
Of snow beneath it.

For
Now

I carry my passenger
Unburdened.

Say no to nothing. Not
Even the cancer.

Even tomorrow's mother's tears,
Father's clenched fists upon casket;

Flowers; loss. Inevitability.
Death grows inside me.

The opposite of a
Pregnancy.
 2° 
madyson shaye
I am crying after making myself cum for the fifth time today. I don't know why. I want to be alone. I want to be alone forever, I don't want to talk to a single person other than myself.
I feel empty.
 2° 
Druzzayne Rika
many days I feel it isn't worth it
it is better I end it
I just do not fit
right

Small disappointments
unfilled expectations
make my daily lessons
I am no longer surprised

gifted with so many unused liberties
armed with many facilities
having all basic amenities
why still unsatisfied?

my thirst for what?

but compare it to so many of them
where do my problems stand
should my opinions even matter

God still has to hear my many complaints
every other day
No wonder he doesn't listen,
I wouldn't too.

Blessed with so much
wasted it all
on being this bitter self I hate
my present state draws the ugly future
and the only cure
is to feel gratitude
on the things I still have
on my conscience who still cares
.
We're almost touching.
we were walking side by side,
you're talking about cabs in your hometown.
I can feel the gravity of your hand, calling my fingers
whispering "it's alright."

We're touching but not quite.
you held my shoulder to protect me from the passing cars.
and for the first time in a long while, I felt so fragile.
In this world where I find it hard even to breathe,
you believed me.

I almost said it.
All I need is one ounce of strength to tell you every single thing that I have ever felt about you.

I want to find home in your collarbones.
Would you be kind enough to let a stranger in?
I want to seep in your being because I'm cold.
The world is harsh and my cracks are aching.

Almost.
Please don't ever become a stranger,
whose laugh I can recognize anywhere.

— The End —