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Lost Girl Feb 2020
I don’t want to be alone
But I end up that way

Part of me wants to go out
But anxiety holds me back

I try to push myself to socialize
But depression always holds me tight

So I just lie in bed  
Why can’t I even cry?

Ohh I’m lonely
This is so confusing
And it is consuming me

My mind is distorted
And it says:

“No one wants to be around me
Everyone always leaves
Will anyone every love me?”

This loneliness
might be the end of me
I wrote how I was feeling and decided to play the piano to calm some of my anxieties about taking a break from college and being back home.
isla Feb 2020
can’t tell if i’m miserable or not.
can’t tell how i’m feeling ever really.
the only feeling i’ve been able to recognize is some sort of happiness when i’m with him.
i say ’some sort of’ because i know i always feel better with him;
i smile, laugh, and i cry with him.
i’m comfortable.
i’m safe.
but at times i sit on his basement couch and i want to feel that ‘better’ feeling
so i smile and i laugh, pleading inside myself to feel that again.
i need that again.
i want that again.
but there’s a filter.
a shade of gray, cradling my mind.
my being.
a coffee filter holding a clump of dark roast thoughts allowing water to pass through
with the cost of a stain in the mug below.
my tongue tastes of the things i ache to say, to finally release and be done with.
it never leaves.
the words stay in my throat, the taste fades to a scattered past.
i sit on that basement couch and swallow.
i deal with that ‘some sort of’ happiness.
i wait.
i wait until what? until when?
what am i even waiting for anymore?
Lizzie Feb 2020
My bravery is spent,
My courage is gone,
My confidence is rent,
'Cause everything went wrong.

How can I beleive
And how can I dream
When there's Nothing left for me?

The only Happiness I have,
The only hope that I'll find,
Is accepting what is gone,
And leaving Hope behind.

Sometimes there's a hard line
Between Realism and Despair,
But other times that line seems to disappear.
Thomas W Case Feb 2020
Life has reached its apex, when the major goal is to not freeze to
death on the Iowa City streets in February.  Finally I went to the back
of the ice-box, and there beside the hamburger and lamb chops and the Atlantic Cod, there was your frozen heart.
I'm speaking metaphorically of course, but finally, I see it for what it is; dead and icy cold.  You can't hurt me anymore.  Finally sweet apathy.
So whenever sentimentality comes whispering at the door or through the open window--lilacs in bloom.  I'll just open the icebox and glance at your dead frostbitten heart.  Maybe you were brutal and
cruel intentionally, or you could never overcome the blizzard
people that surrounded your formative years.
Either way, It feels good to finally see your soul and not
give a ****.
the ending always hurts
Shadow Jan 2020
The crows caw
The rivers scream
The stars cry
The wind is silent.

My days are sombre
In nights I wander,
Beneath the candle light I sit
Beneath the flame I write of peace
Of peace of mind
Of peace of soul

My days go by, my days go by
Every breath is a silenced cry

I can not talk of my sadness
This twisted fate
will result in madness

My words are silenced by my tongue
My tears are stopped by my eyelids
My sadness resides in my heavy heart

I am alone with my thoughts
I am alone
  With
       Melancholia
Lyda M Sourne Jan 2020
And they ask me,

"Hello, how are you?"

"Fine, thank you. And you?"

The automatic reply out of my lips
Falling out in my stead of teardrops

"Fine, thank you. And you?"

I'm fine. Not great. Not good.
Just..

Thank you.
For your politeness. For the bother enough to ask. For the question, even if you couldn't care less.

And you?
Deflection. Before you can see me. Before I can honestly answer the question. Before I can say,

"I'm not fine. I haven't been fine for so long. Yet I deceive myself into thinking I'm content. And it's been so long that someone actually wanted to know if I'm fine or not, I've forgotten how to express myself. How to open up. How to describe how I feel - it's too hard to describe how I feel, so I just say,

Fine, thank you. And you?"
Tony Tweedy Jan 2020
When the voice of a seventeen year old girl holds more wisdom, sanity and truth than those who lead us.
When our leaders trade a prophet for a profit.
When there is easy money to be made from recovery rather than investment in change for the longer term.
When billionaires with vested interests set the policy.
Devastation and disaster, death and starvation have no political bias.
When will you add your voice and when will it be too late for you?
When eyes and ears give rise to voices that call out in fear for our very world will your apathy hold true?
Close your eyes.
Close your ears.
But even so your house will not be immune.
The whole world should be screaming.... for all our sakes.... raise your voices now.
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2019
Duck duck goose
Hangman on a noose
What's your crime
Other than stealin' time?
Picked at random
You won't get sainthood
From martyrdom
There was no four-leaf
Clover, Chuck
Which in layman's terms
Means you just
Ran out of luck...
For anyone who ever stuck their neck out for those who ultimately didn't care.
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