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Do you have any idea
How illegal it feels not to be able to cry in your own room?
because being heard is too high of a risk
and instead,
you have to tip toe to the bathroom
careful not to make any of the crying sounds,
Just to get in there
and unconsciously fall on the hard cold ground,
searching for the bit of light
you once saw at the end of the tunnel.


But then you realize
that maybe down there is where you belong,
maybe that's where you were supposed to get to once you felt like all you do is wrong,
and it just feels like the right moment to give up
when there's no more air entering your lungs,
Or no more hope hidden deep into your heart,
when your head can no longer rest on your shoulders,
and it has to fall on the hard wood door,
when the tears streaming down your face are too many than your messy hands and clothes could handle,
and the eyes just hurt too much to be opened by now..


But you have to get up,
You have to calm down,
You have to find a way to make yourself able to breathe normally again,
So you crawl,
And you crawl,
till you reach something that could help you get up,
Only to feel physically hurt by one's actions.


You stare in the mirror,
And question how did we even get here;
You no longer recall or remember any of the things happening outside the room,
When all you have to do is fake smile and move on.
No.
You're just staring at yourself.
And it's just you.
But you right now look more like a monster, a messy unloved piece of art that just reflects how you feel because it's true..
But it's still you.


And it only took you that moment to realize that you had lost...
But not just any game,
you lost the version of yourself you never thought would live again..
And you're empty.
You just feel defeated.
There in the bathroom looking in the mirror.
And it hurts.
It hurts not to be able to look in your eyes,
It hurts even more just when you see you cry.


But you hold on,
And with your trembling hand,
You turn on the water and try to wash your face,
as if the sadness would just come off;
like some messy make up you forgot to whipe off.
So the tears go,
But new ones just reappear,
And the sadness you thought was gone just keeps on hanging near.
And it's close.
And it hits again
with a type of hurt someone only feels when they are too scared to try again.
And it hurts.
It hurts because it's rare.
To still love and not feel like they really care.
Or maybe they do
but you're just too hurt to think
of another 50 ways of how this is not a real thing...


But you're still looking in the mirror,
and you realize you kinda have to go,
because you spent too much time hanging low..
So you whipe all your tears,
and put on a big fake smile,
then crawl back to the door,
But you stop.
you take a big deep breath,
and lift your chin up like you didn't loose yourself in there.


And you open the door.
And try to normally walk into your room
Like your heart isn't shattered into tiny pieces scattered because it just went "boom".
And you get in there,
but you're too afraid to speak
cause even the silence feels too loud when you're just trying to keep,
keep yourself sane
and tell yourself how it's just gonna be ok.


But it's impossible to make yourself think that way
When the only thing you were able to think was just how everything got destroyed in the time of a blink.
Reece Aug 11
I’m not afraid of heights, but of the fall.
I’m not afraid of addiction, but of the withdrawals.
I wish I could stop these circling thoughts,
But they keep on spinning.
I’m not afraid of imperfection, but of failure,
Miserably luring me,
To an askew belief.
If I fail once, was I a failure all along?
Can I do anything right?
Just add it to the tally,
Ever growing.
Another note to my somber song.
I’m not afraid to die, but of saying goodbye.
These thoughts, while dark sometimes,
I’d give everything to think of them one last time.
These fears remind me that I’m alive.
I’m not afraid of people, but of being judged.
Anxiety plunging me,
Into fictitious security.
Perhaps, I’m better off on my own,
All alone.
But you lose the chance to form connections,
To enjoy the people that surround you.
Perhaps, I should stop playing this game,
And admit that I am very much afraid.
Sometimes even the smallest of fears can seem overpowering.
Aishi Aug 10
Dear God,
I don’t come here much and maybe it’s too late.
But I can’t carry this silence anymore.

I obsess over the smallest things
until they grow teeth and tear at my mind.
I should be living, enjoying,
but instead I choose the comfort of hanging by threads,
watching my self-worth burn and calling it home.

I pretend I don’t care what anyone thinks,
but that’s the farthest thing from the truth.
I care so much it hurts
and yet my pride locks my mouth shut.

Please fix me.
Because I don’t know who I’ll be if I’m happy and that terrifies me more than the pain I live in.
Happiness feels wrong in my skin,
like I’m wearing someone else’s life.

I have memories I won’t speak of.
Traumas that claw at my sleep.
People I avoid,
family I can’t face.
Words I wish I could take back.
Things I’ve done to others,
things I’ve done to myself,
and parts of me I am not ready to repair.

I’ll admit I’m lonely,
but I won’t admit I need help.
I am losing hope,
and before I do something I can’t undo
please, God
Teach me to live,
to live for real.
Not just to survive.
Not just to exist.
If You can't teach me how to live, then at least let me forget what it feels like to want more.
mysterie Jul 29
“it should be.”
being afraid --
it’s not a thrilling feeling,
not a rush,
not something
that anyone asks for.
it’s a heavy,
and eerie kind of silence.
not knowing what’s next,
who will speak,
who will leave,
when it ends --
or if it even will.
no one knows.

being afraid
feels like your insides
are twisting
trying to strangle themselves.

not butterflies --
but knots,
tight and mean,
it's your body sounding the alarms
in the only way it knows how.
a sickness that whispers,
“brace yourself,”
for something
that might not
even come.
first one in awhile.
date wrote: 29/7
a poet Jun 19
20
when the rains come
tell them,
tell everyone,
to get an umbrella.
____

it's a field
a beautiful field.
green and green as far as the eyes can see.
It is quiet
and swaying,
and naked.
Wonderfully naked.

I am also naked.
and i can feel it
like worms, digging
within the hollows of my chest.
It is an uneasy feeling.
one that brings my knees to my chest
and binds it all with my arms.
It makes me want to eat myself
and swallow,
swallow till all that remains is teeth.

I am naked
but the grass I sit on is soft
and the sky has a mouth
that he uses to talk of storms.

I am naked
reciting the Psalms of David.
dwelling in the secret place of the Lord
abiding under the shadow of the Almighty.
I saw the fire in your eyes, and I was not afraid.
We are all burning souls; we may as well burn with one another.

Rhia Clay
This bends my mind.
Welds my thoughts, turning them into gold.
The heartbeat within me slows and speaks.
It twists like metal wrapping around my being.
Like the beams of highway lights, the day's light lingers.
It lingers in a wayward manner,
seemingly afraid to depart,
turning in and wielding light.
Inside out, it seeks a dark place to shelter.  
This life surrounds me.  
It’s paper confetti and barbed wire—  
always bending and never breaking,  
celebrating and awakening.  
Tell me, what is it that we are forsaking?

-Rhia Clay
Nobody May 22
i'm sorry i'm too chicken ****
to confess to you

i'm sorry my anxious ***
can't tell you the truth

there are so many ******* things i cant do

so i'm sorry i'm too chicken ****
to confess to you


so for now i'll just flirt and blush
like a schoolgirl with a lame ******* crush
i'm sorry if i'm too much

and i'll continue to hide
how i actually feel,
too many parts of me
that i must conceal

none of this even feels real

and no matter how much
i hide the truth
i'm sorry i'm too chicken ****
to confess to you
dude i was so ******* close to writing this in italian so only the ppl who have the energy to google translate or sum **** could read it BECUSE THIS IS SO ****** CRINGE RAHHHH NOT EVERYBODY SHOULD BE ABLE TO READ THIS I'M GOING TO SCREAM BUT I NEEDED TO GET THIS OFF MY CHEST ***** AND ITS SO BAD BUT ITS OK ITS A LEARNING PROCCESS
lace and distaste
affection and addiction
obsession and possession
the pain without gain
the rotting of the brain

the parents pride and prune and preen
you've finally turned 15

lack of sleep
little to eat
just take more medication
if that doesnt help, review it on yelp
and theyll say you just lacked dedication.

the adults find you fit to be seen
"you're not actually 15?"

the brain shutting down
systems start to drown
you're  not  in  the  best scene

welcome one
welcome all

another fool turning fifteen.

-Ajs
wow im a freak.
i hate being 15
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