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laying in a warm patch of sunlight surrounded by dandelions

and an orange glow peaking through closed eyelids

leaving an ache behind my forehead


of no more teary days

no more chilly hands or goosepimples

of a day when my patch of sunlight lasts for an eternity

and the sun never sets in order for the moon to rise

and I never get cold
Lynn Nov 8
The world is keeping secrets from me
maybe that the reason I bleed and fall
maybe I'm just growing closer to learning it all.

Maybe that's the reason I plead
for some sort of secret sweet release;
so I can learn the secrets
that the world keeps from me.

Jamie Lee Oct 29
One X on the calander and a cup of luke warm coffee
The sidewalk chalk is like padlocks on my feet,
But they cant stop me
Through a static phone line, I can still hear you talking
Nothing of the nice sorts-
It is impure and not godly

Your perception of me slips through the cracks of you teeth
Bitter and raw things you breathe
Your voice is muddy and meek
Another X on the calander
Not a lot of sleep in between

I am wondering where your love went, because it doesnt live here
How many Xs on the calander?
A few weeks? A month? A year?
Both the liquor and the answer is clear

Long car rides spent swallowing sentences
Its a muffled radio, singing along with the tention
Where did you heart go? Every beat a lease of absence
Where did you put it? In a drawer or a cabnet?
How many Xs on the calander will it be till I once again have it
Anno Oct 18
I have this announcer
In my head
Speaking through a mic
broadcasting my sensational endeavor
I decided to do that year
only to follow up half way
Because of manic episodes
Composed of unorganized perfection
And useless, jumbled words
That often didn’t make sense
But the announcer never failed
Using their echoing voice
Overpowering all other thoughts
Would debut some idea
Making me feel
Abigail Sep 21
My worry consumes me
My thoughts are scattered
Much like the trash in my messy room
My heart aches so terribly
I can feel the pain of it in my belly

The sharp pieces from my broken heart spill from my mouth
They cut the people I love wide open
They bleed out
Suddenly, I am sick of me

I wonder how I got this way
Was it the hand slipping under my shirt, unwelcomed?
Was it because of all the spoons with burnt backs?
Was it the visions of my mother’s swollen face?
I want to know what the **** it was that made me so hideous

Alas, I don’t have the answers
And while the weight of the world is not on my shoulders
It is certainly on my mind
It is certainly in my heart
And I pray that one day I might rest
Ashtyn Lucas Sep 7
Sitting in front of
The people I love
Hiding from them
My feelings in a cove

The sadness seeps
Up from my broken heart
To my eyes as they search
For a place to start

A place to start
With a knife in my hand
The thin lines as the pierce
The blood pooling in the sand

You hide them the next day
The cuts along your arms
To make sure no one sees them
You raise your alarm

Not a day goes by
That you don't see the scars
From so many years ago
Straight lines across your arms

Years later you know
How the cuts didn't help
All they did was curse you
With the pain that you felt

Each day a reminder
Of the way you made
Made yourself feel better
By giving yourself pain

Scarred for life
Both mentally and physically
You now know why you should never
Never show your vulnerability
Started again a few days ago...but I'm doing fine :) It doesn't help, so please don't harm yourselves.
Anno Apr 15
Too spun to know the sound of pain
But the notes are there
Everyone's feelings are different
Time is medicine
Among other clichés
But feelings should be humbled
Time as an hourglass
stretching across the desert
An eternity to heal
An eternity to forget
Needles to the skin
Lonely painted rooms
Yearning for attention
The house, an empty cardboard box
What alone really means
A golden shrine to kneel in front of
A stone to plant flowers
Bringing about memories
A slap on the face
Black and white movies
Humming an unknown tune
The taste of salt lingers
Presence no longer with us
I searched for traces of her existence
The voice
Gentle hands
I found her hoard of papers
Among them,
One I wrote
About how I cannot connect with family
stomach voided
wanting to connect with you
Chest tightens
I just didn't know how
And here it goes again
Anno Apr 14
why won't someone tell me
what they know
or is it all a show
I can't really tell
the spasms
touches of sarcasm
the flakes of fakes
like a self conscious woman
I follow you
i follow
but now i wallow
as your actions hit me
like a heart attack
maybe I am just being dramatic
It's a panic
shaken bones
my mind has grown
It's just a panic
a panic.
Marloes Mar 4
The constant storm that is raging inside my brain
The flames in my head spreading further until I drain
Not enough loudness, not enough wildness
But still wishing for something cloudless
This whirlwind is spinning me around
and finally leaving me dazed on the ground

They see me washed up on shore
But no one seemed to care anymore
The movie of memories started to play
And I realized it was my role
that drove the audience away

So to me, my flames are unkind
But mostly they failed to remind
that in the storm I am blind
To what mess I leave behind
About the destructive nature of manic episodes or mixed episodes in bipolar disorder
I, in sight
This form away, in distance
At climes ever swayed
By I, never silent
The ardour of Dawn.

O Sun, what marvels of light!
Air itself breathes
Seraphim follow in
For Morn's teardrops, the jewels.

And manifest I to this.
The hallowed birth of day
Wherein Vigour fiends for my soul.
Alighted, reverent-hearted
My life draws near with the dew.

But dark yet draws.
Great Sun, exalted undertaker
How might You succumb
And from Night, run?

Warmth of courage fades
Armour steeled sings requiem
For soaring dreams, for seething passions
O, how soldiers fall!

And twilight creeps.
I crawl past faceless moons
Down cleft and silvered gorge
To where, I yearn?
To where?

To I, in sight
My form returned and true
The world knows awe
For dew-gleaming Dawn
And I, its muse.

What power, Sun, what gold!
My soul yet burns with Thee.
Soar I high, to heaven, fly
To claim my joyous boon.

And from harrowed haunt to this.
A flare of thoughtful life
By which I vainly wish.
Fearless yet fraught, my innards so taught
That the truth is often missed.

But seasons shift, they say.
Tidal powers pull me in
And push away.
For what, I ask?

My anger drowns in squall
Sorrows deep draw bowstrings
Upon my mind, against my heart
O, the grave-borne call!

It is horror.
Earthen vices wrest my form
From wind, from angels' fibres
And all that remains
Is Mist, I, who chases after the dawn.
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