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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
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
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.
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
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.
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
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
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.
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Youllneverunderstand me
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.
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.
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
Druzzayne Rika
many days I feel it isn't worth it
it is better I end it
I just do not fit

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
Your naked body
Pressed on mine
We kissed

I thought that
I should feel

Thrill, euphoria
Lust, love
Or bliss

But no
I felt
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.
Keith Wilson
It's a dull cold March morning
No sign of spring
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.


I carry my passenger

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
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.
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
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
and when
their hands brushed
they called it -- "love",
who sobbed into
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
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
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.
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.
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.
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 ....

— The End —