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Henry Fry May 15
I won't ever let you escape from my brain
You're bound to my mind, pulled tough and restrained
A mere trace of your scent I won't ever forget
Not saying I love you is my biggest regret

I miss you dearly, your laughter, your perfume, your face
I missed you even more when you went to your mums place
Reeking of *****, I was always drunk and rude
But it was always forgiveness instead of sued

Looking back on our past it's clear to see
That you were the only women meant for me
The only way to see you once more is to pull it
So I can't wait to eat dinner with you, after I eat this bullet
TW: Suicide
Dzdturtle May 11
Their weeping
***** the air from the room,
extinguishing my fire,
demanding my silence.

Their weeping
drowns me in doubt.
Am I good?
Am I cruel?
Am I wrong?

Before I can even name my pain,
I’m already
reassuring them,
soothing them,
carrying them—
while I smolder quietly beneath.
Dzdturtle May 11
I sit in my rocking chair,
sobbing in my hand,
screaming into a pillow full of rage—
while the loved ones surround you,
clapping,
your hand held out to me,
like a performance.

Fathers-in-law:
“She read it in a book.”
Dismissed before the first page turned.

Sisters-in-law:
“I got a shotgun to my face.”
Pain is a competition
they think they’ve already won.

Mother-in-law:
“It’s his choice.”
As if mine never mattered.

Mother:
“His job is more important.”
My worth calculated
in salaries and silence.
Fathers:
“It’s too late to say no”
Consent stolen
Before I understood

Brother:
“Words hurt, you just have to get over it.”
The bruises unseen
are the ones that bleed the longest.

Therapist:
“Forgive or divorce.”
No in-between.
No room to breathe.

Child:
“It’s your fault he’s not here.”
Guilt stitched into lullabies.

Husband:
“Do you want to go to the mental hospital?”
As if that’s the only place I belong.



But I am not your villain.
Not your scapegoat anymore.

They surround him with applause—
but I am the one still standing
in the ashes
they all pretend aren’t burning.

To prove you care,
don’t reach for me.
Respect my silence.
Honor my space.
Let me rock—
alone,
in peace.
Dzdturtle May 11
She’s learning to trust herself—
her intuition, her body, her voice.
She’s starting to listen
instead of silence.

Her boundaries are clearer.
She may say no more often
or walk away.

She’s not afraid of her emotions,
even if they’re painful.
She feels them fully
instead of stuffing them down or lashing out.

She’s softening and strengthening at once.
There’s more compassion,
but also more firmness.

She lets herself rest—
not just physically,
but mentally and emotionally.

She doesn’t chase love.
She receives it,
especially from herself.

She sheds old skins—
guilt, shame, roles
that were never hers.
She lets them fall off her,
little by little.

Her joy returns in pieces—
a laugh,
a creative spark,
and moments of peace.
She treasures them.

It doesn’t always look graceful.
Sometimes it’s messy, angry, quiet, or chaotic.
But healing is not about appearance.
It’s about being real.
Dzdturtle May 11
I always ask—
will this be the last
memory that comes back
to haunt me?
There must be an end
to this rage.

I always ask—
is this the last
burden I feel,
when their needs
will be theirs
to own?

I always ask—
is this the last
of being
invalidated?
Will they
finally say
something
that doesn’t
hurt
so bad?

I always ask—
am I to scrutinize
your behavior forever?
What’s genuinely for me
and not you?
Dzdturtle May 11
The Guise of Concern —
a mask he wears,
not to deceive maliciously,
but because he needs to believe
he’s the good guy.

A Sincere Coercive Affair —
he performs love,
performs sacrifice,
performs responsibility.
But underneath,
it’s driven by fear,
control,
and a fragile self-image.

He’s not peacocking for you —
he’s convincing himself.

It sets a trap:
Call it out?
You’re ungrateful.
Difficult.
Stay quiet?
You betray yourself.

Which one are you going to be?
Dzdturtle May 11
He sits on his sad perch
Crying tears
Made with selfish fears
While I flounder,
Drowning in an invisible sea—
Reacting to something others can’t see.

Framed as excessive,
Then ignored,
Dismissed—
While they root for the show,
The cause,
The catalyst

Instead of truth.
Scars.
And loneliness.

I hold the torch—
Too feral to be seen
As they choose
To stumble
Back into oblivion.
Mariah May 11
Please, please, please
Help me get through today with ease
As a child
With a mother
Who thought me a disease
I hope she gets better.
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