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I think it's easier for people to feel sympathy for others when their ailments are tangible, physical. We've all felt aches and pains before. It's much harder to find sympathy when another person's sickness is trapped inside their mind. It makes it seem as if they have control over what is going on inside their heads; I can control my thoughts, why can't you?? But it isn't that way at all. It's not really the victim's mind speaking to them, it's the demons that reside in the dark corners of their thoughts, thieves that come to steal away happiness in the middle of the night. They can't control these demons, so they try to let them out by painting their skin red. Even though their emotions have now entered the realm of the physical, most people still don't understand. They don't understand how someone could hate themselves so much that they would run a blade over their own skin in an attempt to right their wrongs. They don't understand that in those moments, the demons are in control. And there's no telling what they will do. Many people cannot wrap their minds around a concept such as this, but I dare you to try. Tear down the walls of your sheltered little life and see if you can survive one night in her hell. I bet you wouldn't. The mind is the most powerful muscle in the body, why can't people understand that it's fated to take the biggest hit??
There's hope for you yet!! :)
Write me the words
The words of your soul
Show me your heart
Blistered and broken
Sing me the melody
Of your deep and tragic past
Read to me
The emotions that are too hard to express
Try to make me understand
The things you've gone through,
Witnessed,
Relived a hundred thousand times
Then I will know
The depths of your being
And put the pieces back in place
So you can finally be whole again.
 Apr 2014 Sad Beautiful Tragic
M
I've been ******* everything up for a while,
and I realized that
maybe it wasn't as perfect as I thought it was.
A kiss is just a kiss
until you find the one you love
A hug is just a hug
until you find the one you always think of
A dream is just a dream
until it comes true
Love was just a word
until the day that I met you
there was once this girl
she loves ice cream twirls
and she loves it when her hair is curled

she loves the color black and red
one day, blood stains shed.
her mom found out
all she could do was pout

her parents told her to explain
explain all the pain.
she explained everything, but again.
no one believed her, no one understand her.

they didnt believe her, no one does.
she cried, and she tried to be strong thus
her parents are mad.
while there she is sad.

she didnt really did it in purpose
she surely said the truth
but still, no one believed her.

and what hurt the most is when her parents told her that
"say anything you want, no one will believe you."
and that girl is me.
I am not writing this
to get attention
or pity
or so people will tell me
I'm beautiful the way I am.

I am writing this
because when I post a poem about
being terrified to look at myself
because I hate what I see,
it should not be added to a collection titled
Humorous.

I am writing this
because when I sit at a lunch table
without a brown paper sack,
boys should not laugh when they ask
what, are you anorexic?

I am writing this
because when I watch Disney Channel
with my eight-year-old cousin,
I should not hear jokes
about skipping meals.

I am writing this
because when you google
anorexia is,
the first suggestion should not be
anorexia is good.

I am writing this
because our society should not
expect people to be paper thin
but judge them
for trying to get there.

I am writing this
because insecurities
are not a joke,
*no one
should be laughing.
This makes me angry
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