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if i had a gun
i would press it against my temple
and feel the pulse radiate through my shaky hands
my thoughts of guilt and doubt running through my mind
and i would consider placing it on the table
consider saving myself for one more day
but instead
i would pull the trigger
-c.a
tw suicide, tw guns
emily Oct 2022
I was 17 when it happened
I trusten them
It was going well
Until it wasn't
And a fun day with a friend became a nightmare
They invited me over
To play on their xbox and watch tv
But watching tv became perverse
Their hand drifted towards me
And became an uninvited guest that I never wanted
It all went too fast, too unknwn too wrong
I became a stranger in my own skin
No longer aware of what was happening
Like a passenger on a ride
Watching my own body a few feet away
It was suffocating the corruption of what he did to me
Years later i still remember his body on top of mine
And the smell of sweat is still **** in my nose
And i try to distract myself from the uncontrollable shaking that i can't stop
But all I can think about is his hands on my throat
And the fear that still lingers today.
Till this day i have never spoken of this
But today I have immortalised the day that I wish to forget.
im sorry im so so sorry
Venn  Jul 2015
Depression
Venn Jul 2015
(tw; hypothermia, death)

Having depression is like being caught out in a blizzard.

At first, the cold seems like nothing.

You're all bundled up in a fluffy coat,
scarf wrapped around your face,
hands slipped into gloves and tucked under your arms.

But then the snow begins to fall,
and the temperature drops,
and it's like the chill is stripping you down, layer by layer,
even though all your layers are still there.

It gets colder, and you start to feel the effects of the chill,
the fierce winter seeping into your bones,
making it seem as though you only walked outside
in a pair of shorts and a tee-shirt.

Your body begins to numb as the cold starts,
the weakest parts of you losing their feeling first.

Your nose,
your ears,
your cheeks and your face and your fingers,
all becoming completely numb,
as if they aren't there anymore.

And then your legs stiffen up,
and you have trouble walking,
even though you try so hard to keep moving,
because you know if you stop, you're doomed.

But you lose your ability to function,
the cold causing almost complete ****** paralysis,
and no matter how hard you try,
it's impossible to keep moving.

You fall to the ground,
curling into a ball in the snow,
trying to keep yourself warm,
but the cold is too much.

And as the hypothermia sets in,
your brain tricks you into thinking you're actually warm,
and you strip off the layers that were the only thing
keeping you alive.

And then it's over.
Marisol Quiroz May 2019
i held an old friend to my wrist tonight
panicked and unable to breath
a mess of sickening sobs
he pressed down against me
holding me in a comforting embrace
the tears soon ceased
and again i could breath
beneath my wristwatch band
i’ll keep this forbidden secret
nobody can know but me
nobody can know but me.

— relapse
i’m sorry
Lost Girl Sep 2021
"Your hair will fall out"
"You'll faint and pass out"
"Why must you hurt yourself?"

I don't mean to, I swear
I try to recover
Each time I fail

Skin and bones are what I desire
At least that's what my mind tells me
As my body is starving, fading away

Recovery is hard
Relapse is familiar
My eating disorder is killing me
Feeling the urge to relapse, but writing about my struggles helps me stay strong.
jude rigor Mar 2022
i started this poem
when i was
nearly 23
i'm 24 now
almost 25
but i still feel
like a child.

19
trying drugs,
loving the man
who would **** me.
and i'd forgive him
take him back into my arms
let him touch me anywhere
just to feel something.
afterward
he smokes
and smokes
and smokes
apologizing
through a haze
of drugs and
shame. he spoke
useless fragile
words and i drank
them up eagerly.
they tasted like
whiskey,
valerian,
and ice.

when i'm 20
i find a therapist.
no more drugs;
still loving him.
i slide a new slate
across the kitchen
table just for him.
but it's cracking
as his fingers
pick it up,
shattering in
place. he moves
from stone
to skin. rips
and tears
until i'm
finally
split
too.

21
still in therapy,
i tell him
it's okay
that he
cheated
because
it was
all
about
the drugs:
not me.
but when i
tell him how
much it hurts
he says
maybe you
should work on that
in therapy.
i lean into
his side
but being
near him
never quite
feels the
same and
i ache for
comforting
sin.

i'm 22 when i find out
that being pressured
into *** after
saying no twice
isn't consensual
and he's not
round anymore
but at night
i hold my breath
terrified that he'll
appear. in my
dreams there
are flash
backs lying
in wait, even
though i've
begged for
some dream
less sleep.

when i'm 23
my third or fourth
therapist
tells me
she's sorry that
i had to go through
it all. and she listens
as i fade away and keeps
listening until i
can feel the earth
at my feet
once more.
she's a good
sort. i'm sad
when she
moves.

24 creeps
upon me
like a scratchy
sweater. i want to
shrug it off of my
shoulders, but it's
too cold. i'm no
longer the things
that happened
to me in that
darkening room,
and at twilight
most nights
i no longer find
myself thinking of
him.

i feel so old.
my bones always
hurt, the cat's food
is so expensive, and
i always have chicken
in the freezer. but
i can't bring myself
to eat. the medications
keep the ache at bay
but i feel it waiting.
at least my cat always
purrs when i feed him.
makes me feel
a little
loved.

my chance to grow
got pushed back a
few years
and i probably grew
anyways, unknowingly
pushing back against
invisible walls waiting
for one to finally give.

i hate that i'm here
trapped in adolescence
i hate that i'm still
writing about him
about what happened
and how much it still
hurts me.

maybe when i'm 25
i'll try to edit
this poem.
i found this unfinished poem and decided to re-write it. it's a lot. i tried to tag trigger warnings so i hope this didn't make anyone upset. i should edit this one day. [tw: sa] = [trigger warning: ****** assaul t]
She Writes Jul 2022
You handcuffed my dreams to your bed
And that’s where they'll lay, until I’m dead
the haze that covers my eyes
like a blindfold of nightmares
follows me through the day
keeping me from living
and inviting death
-c.a
Phia Oct 2023
This morning
I sat in the shower
Staring at the razor
On the edge of my tub
Wondering
If the water would turn cold
Before my body did
Tough
A poem.
—————

I can’t deal with anyone’s crap.
I got to much blood and boulders,
On my back.

Fighting back the past,
Never been able to relax.

I don’t know if anyone can tell,
—Or if anyone cares,
But I'm about to crack.

they creep up,
Bruises cover much.

Random hallucinations—
Severe pain.

No one's understanding,
—or listening.

My brain is in such a bad headache,
I feel like my insides are blistering.

Fidgeting.
Numbness.
Pain.
Fainting.

Brain making—
Random movements.
All a loss of control.

Appointments got canceled,
“WHY!!!— HOW MANY MORE!?”

When does someone call it-
“Enough!?”
  
I’m NOT….THIS tough.
Am I enough, am I REALLY tough!? If I can’t even take care of myself.. and the doctors CANT keep appointments…how do I function on my own..how do I ask for help when Im told to say “Im fine” or “you need to stop” 😭😰
Chelsea Quigley  Jan 2024
Torn
Chelsea Quigley Jan 2024
TW: Self-Harm

Mummy,
My flesh is my own,
Grown and sewn,
To skin and bone.

But my mind is hurt and I don't know why.

As the metal hit,
On leg to wrist,
It painted my body.

Nothing could stop me.

It was addictive,
Yet I am still alive.

Why?

From one to two,
Then some to a few.
I could not keep score,

My body is now torn.
This is a very heavy topic for a poem, but as you may know, I do tend to write about the reality of life, and that includes mental health struggles. I wanted to write this for anyone who has struggled/struggles with self-harm. If you are one of those people, you are strong and beautiful, always.
EC Pollick Jun 2012
Rhythm of life
Nails tapping on table tops
Beating of our hearts
spin the world right off its axis.
Momma shot a man in Reno
Just to watch him die.
Atlas shrugged
And we all tripped as we walked
The pace of our mile,
off by 3.6 seconds.

Trust in our stated axioms
Disillusioned Americans in Paris
Judged by the color of our skins
and the shoes on our feet
No one stops to see how blue it is up there today.
Hurrying through the rain
Our cities never sleep.
Going down South
It’s slower down here.
Sunday’s best and
“God Loves You” stickers when you get your oil changed.

Night train whistle blows
Factory steam pipes squeal
Mississippi riverboats tug and chug
Dictionary.com definitions let us down.
Greatest disasters in history
are when thing we take perfectly for granted
stop working.
Mad cow, mad hatter, mad world
Bad boys, bad wine, bad date
Ellipses, dot dot dots, dramatic pause, passing of time passing of time passing of….
……..
………….
…………………….
Time.

Tw—
Twi—
Twitch.                       (tick tick tick)

I believe in the abnormal
And the impossible
And I refuse to believe that fictional characters aren’t real
Animals completely understand me
When I talk to them.

Baby missiles fire
From all parts of the globe
End of the world party
Let’s go down in glorious drunkenness
As the beating of our hearts
Spins the world right off its axis.

— The End —