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17th Jul 2014
I'm falling apart**






















I need to be back











I'm not being myself
17th Jul 2014
I want to **** myself
I want to know how it feels to be truly empty
I want to end with this with my hand

when I was a little child
I used to dream of days of happiness
days of being all colorful
now my days are just blue

"suicide is not the answer"
"this will be endless"

honestly
I don't care
I'm so depressed I can't even write properly
17th Jul 2014
"How can I make my poem a trend?"
I've been wondering
So I made a list

step one
Stop thinking about yourself
Stop thinking about what you want
Stop thinking about the other half of the glass
Then you will realize that it doesn't matter how far you are
It always seems to be so near

step two
Think about the trends!
Not interested about love?
Then try all of the above!

step three
I really don't know what to think

Just remember
You choose to be recognized for being part of something
Part of something you don't even like
Part of something you're just in because it's a trend
Or to be recognized for doing what you like
Even if you're bad at that you could be recognized!

*but don't stop doing things
if you follow this steps, you're really like wrong I don't know it was just a joke!!!!!!
17th Jul 2014
I just got this empty feeling
I wanted to stand out by myself
I wanted to be the living proof of something
I just turned out to be the living proof
The living proof of insecurities
17th Jul 2014
I don't like to hear you singing my favorite songs
17th Jul 2014
~
there's no more words to be said
there's no more actions to be done

your words slowly dance through my hands
with their favorite dance shoes
also known as their blade

I wish I could give up
I wish I could give you up

like they would say in France
"fais moi flotter comme une plume"
I know you don't understand french
that's what I like about it
17th Jul 2014
I hate the way you grab your hair while you're doing everything
the way you make me feel guilty about things I haven't said
or haven't done
the way you make my headache turn into a psychosis
the way you turn a scratch to a cut
the way you look so familiar
but so unknown

I don't like the books you read
they seem useless
they're not even fun
they make me feel like I'm useless to you

your ******* games
they're ******* with my head
******* with my mind
*******

did this poem just lost it's beauty because I said "****"?
I hope not
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