cher 7d


nd that's what happens, you see.
it's a blank, a simple underscore,
a line so                i can no lon

ake it anymore, i really don't know.
one day i was functioning fine, and
the next i just forgot to ta

at day, that blue bottle of hormones
and suppression                there and
i had simply left witho

s different, i was giddy and felt...
felt as though i was five again, before
i had to take these pil

trange to me, as if i had no control,
i was a child, i couldn't focus on               
and i felt myself slipping into a fatig

dn't want to mess up my dosage so
i didn't take the                when i got home,
and the next morning i did the opp

upid and dense and brainless and
foolish, because i took one                pill
than i should have and it just rui

ou see, i was already falling into this
pit of de                 and de                so
the pills just made it worse, and i sa

ate myself so much, i messed everything
up, said the wrong things, repeated the
same mistakes again, and i really shou

ld my loved ones a temporary truth, the
kind that really isn't true at all, a strange
shade of grey between truth and li

ly blame myself, it was really my fault,
that. i told them i didn't                anymore
and i don't know why i did or wh

osing myself here, i can't feel the tip of
my tongue pressing against my own teeth,
it feels like someone else's, a stran

nd it's almost as if i can't feel anymore, like
the tears i shed only weeks before no longer
mattered, like the laughs i had shar

hools should teach that it's not simply
the recreational              that harm, but
also the ones that try to help us, an

ruly am sorry, even though nothing i say
matters anymore, not when i messed up
the way i did, not when i said what i s

pe they forgive me, that they see that the
words i said were just                and that
i wasn't me, but i don't even kn


i did something very wrong because i messed up my dosages and depersonalisation and derealisation added with the apathy from my depression isn't good for anyone.
AmateurPoet Sep 11

I’m sorry
I’m sorry I pay attention to your wrists
But I do it because you’re beautiful and unbroken and I want the whole world to know
I want everyone too see how beautiful your skin is that your mother and father made, and how perfectly imperfect it is

I’m sorry I pay attention to your wrists
But I do it because I’m scared and worried that I won’t be able to protect you more than a knife ever did
I want you to know how loved you are and how you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met

I’m sorry I pay attention to your wrists
But I do it because I never want you to ever be hurt again; by other people or yourself
I want you to know how strong you are, and that no matter who hurts you, I believe you can pull through because you’re amazing

I’m sorry I pay attention to your wrists
But I do it because every single scar reminds me how I was too late
I wanted to be there more and even now, I continue to miss you and worry constantly, fearing that you’ll disappear from my life and I won’t be able to be a better friend

I’m sorry
I’m sorry I pay attention to your wrists
I don’t mean to do it to draw people’s attention
I know you’ve gotten enough of that already
Quick glances or long stares
I just want you to know
I’m here

Mister J Sep 1

The crystal moon glowed bright that night
The sky dotted with glistening starlight
The clouds drifting with the gentle wind
The rivers flowing in a symphonic stream

The forest trees looked strong and mighty
Towering all over the the mountain skyline
Yet in the cool breeze they seem to whisper
To soothe the ailing of a broken heart

She was alone, left cold and in the dark
Her quiet sobbing rings across the abyss
It seems every thing and being hears her pleas
Everyone except those who fell deaf, except me

Her tears were bursting like a raging river
Flowing with every frustration she endured
Her heart, once filled up by love for me
Swollen and bursting with all her angst

There I was, standing frozen like a glacier
My heart beating crazy, my mind going blank
That broken heart was on my bloodied hands
That broken smile caused by my poisonous lies

She, who found me at the times of my best
She, who stayed even when I was at my worst
She, who loved me all throughout my changing whims
And yet here I am, choosing to break her heart.

My only desire was to gain some worth
Setting aside what mattered to me most
I was stupid enough to cling to the temporary
as I pushed aside what was to be for a lifetime

So here I am standing in front of you
Choking on the pride I held for so long
Digging deeply within to find the courage to say
I'm sorry, I love you, please give me another way

Banish me from your heart if that is your price
Free yourself from my memories, both good and bad
But please hear me out, hear my humbled cries
Another chance is all I ask from you, don't say goodbye

Another Midnight post. :)

I think about
the things
we used to do and
the thought
of tainting them with
anyone else
shatters my heart
like the feeble glass of
an old cup.
It held all our memories and
I chose to let it fall,
crashing to the floor
in a flurry of misunderstood emotions.

I'm sorry isn't enough to fix this.
But it's a good place to start.

Dovey Aug 31

Hey hello
How many times how many times
Is it you want to hear me apologize
Stutter and repeat like a scratched CD
I’m s-s-s-orry I’m s-s-s-s-orry

I’ve learned the truth it was never a game
For you it was hell, and hell gets pushed away
But you incited this war, you silly sadistic
Played a game with a doll slowly becoming masochistic

And yeah the doll has lost the skin on her hands
Took her fingernails and peeled them back
Oozing cracks on her chest mean she can no longer play
Send her away send her away

My voice box is broken I’m stuck on repeat
Screeching hellish words repetitively
No matter how much I try to change
I’m still that broken doll you want to throw away

I’m s-s-s-s-orry I’m s-s-s-s-orry

My mom told me to pack my bags today, she's finally done and is kicking me out.
ICN Jul 31

I started wearing contacts
and you didn't even notice.
You texted me an apology, saying
I'm your only one.
Telling me you love me
But face it, we're just angsty teens.

Tomorrow's a new day,
I'll be halfway across the country
Your lips another memory
And your eyes a faded photograph
Letting go, is harder than I thought.

All I want
Is another blueberry smoothie on your rooftop.
While the sky is changing colors
Purple and blue.
Like we used to do
I realize, I'm missing you.

My body's moved away,
but my brain hasn't moved on.
Whatever happened?

The summer breeze,
now a winter storm.
Oh purple and blue,
It's just blue without you.

//ugh i actually hate this sappy stuff but its all i can write\\

Ever given an apology
when embarrassment
was your true feeling?

Is there space between them?
Or is one the wrapping paper?
Silverskin on coffeebean.
Ornate half mask on a dancer in all black
Between Pointed nose and chandileier
Same infastructure as churches
Decorated to make others look to god.
Up, with gargoyales and bells

If embarrassment is the root of an apology.
Does it ring?

What time of day?

Embassy of embarrassment is your apology.
It is no secret, it is kevlar.
Harder to break.

If you are never embarrassed.
You cannot be sorry.

pride and abandon
As honest as they are to a man
Who loves to love
Strike offensive on ears set
To red at your past.
Own the honesty like a magic shield.
You will not have the kevlar of apology
If you do not have the embarrassment.

You'll need to fake it.
This takes delicate work.
Convincing the world you are not selfish
When born in america
Is not easy.

Loving your own failure seems proof enough
To learn from mistakes
But intellect.
Is not the opposite of selfishness.
In abundance you carry both as a burden.

People see you as a man, honest.
People see you as a man, who was not honest.
People see you as a man, selfish.
People see you as a man, who would rather be wrong and manic than human.

And people see through sometimes the armor
Of your bullshit
And magic armor of your smile

Because you talk too much

When all you want is too be heard,
Your biggest weakness is when someone listens.

You are so powerfull when no one hears you.
And you are so seen when you never open your mouth.

But the second you do.
You are ugly.

Underneath the ornate white mask and pointed nose
Without the smooth pleasentries of a nirror for a face.
You are seen a bulbous boiled blemmish.
A red infected wound for an ear.

It hurts to hear their testimony
Wittnessing you when you are without protection.

This is not embarrassment?
You are not embarrassed to be seen an ugly thing?

And no.
It just hurts.
And the pain callouses, making it more ugly.
Until we got to where we are.

Indestructible in all this broken.
Untouchable from all this infection.
Unlovable from all this attention.

A greiving suit of armor

Cat Lynn Jul 22

Dear Bed Time Ceiling,

                    Why is it that whenever I go to end the existence of my body, I happen to stare at you?

I lay down myself to evaporate my troubles, but like the rain it comes back down again....

Why can't I turn my body to the side and glare at a blank wall?

Your tiny hill and hole like outlines make up designs that drowns my heart right into Hell's thunder.

You’re dead, not even alive, but you every night you bring me to the closed in field of regret.

Why must you remind me? You ceiling that has a heart of stone

The time that I used and abused my actions for the pleasure of myself?

No one can see me now, but how can you?

I want to make an apology, but the signal won't go through...

Every Night I can't help but to weep

Cause all I want is to feel closer to you
JAC Jul 21

The sea has a way of forgiving
without apologizing for anything.
She swims far from humanity
yet she invites us in,
she pulls at our sands
and it lulls us to relief
while offering sustenance
and cold, sweet belief -
but when she wants us out,
she throws us like ships,
pieces of a hard-lost board game,
and if we try to resist her,
she takes us in,
and she apologizes,
but does not forgive us.

For my darling, the sea.

Could this be
the very sea
that carries me
from poem to poem?

I apologize in advance,
For none of my love songs will have melodies.

I will laugh in euphony and cry in cacophany, I will bleed with every typo and breathe with every verse. I will think in metaphors and speak in rhyme.

I will tell you I love you
Not by using those three words
But by writing my own; pages at a time.

I will compare your eyes to lighthouses in the mist
And your laughter to a lark's opera.
You won't just hear me say "you're beautiful" (though you are), but go on for chapters about every little freckle.

You won't understand why I think so dramatically. Or why I take so long to choose my words (because I always know I can find better ones). You will become angry when I sit down and write because I just can't say what I want to with my voice.

But, most of all, I apologize for the way your face will fall when you read my poems and discover who I am. You will awe at how I can hide so much in those little notebooks. You will hear stories about me that will never escape my lips. You will tremble at the exhausted self that remains after I pour all that I am into the pen strokes on the paper.

For these things, I am sorry.
So please excuse me for being a poet.
And please excuse yourself for loving one.

- p. winter

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