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J Mar 23
acting is a lot easier than people let you believe.
First you pick a person,
some sort of simple, easy, fun-loving personality
some range of phrases for said personality
mixed in with reactions of course, and
BAM
you got the gist.
my character is funny in the way that they're sort of me.
I'm very fake.
I've got this habit, you see, this habit of smiling and laughing.
"it's fine, it's funny we're laughing."
I'm the therapist, they come to me, I help.
I collect shards and paste them together
abandoning my own flayed pieces,
ignoring my own shattered self.
But that's okay!
See that's okay!!
Because J!
J!
J doesn't mind being stepped on!
OH ** **!
J DOESN'T MIND BEING USED AND TORMENTED!
NO NO CONTINUE PLEASE!
J doesn't MIND only being talked to when others need something!
Please, go ON!
Because J!
J WILL LET YOU?
and why?
maybe it's the separation anxiety
or abandonment issues
or the fear of being alone in a general way
or a fear of being hated
maybe it's because J is so ****** use to being treated like a
******* DOORMAT!
that it doesn't even phase them anymore
it doesn't even matter anymore
it's part of the normal world
day-to-day life!
. . .
I smile a lot.
I laugh a lot.
More than most.
More than I should.
Some would argue that it's simply too much
am I trying too hard with it?
is it somehow obvious?
. . .
I left my first period to the bathroom. and proceeded to
sit down on the hate this word
and yet i couldn't cry?
WHY?
someone else was in the bathroom.
I wanted NEEDED some sort of a break
and yet J
and yet I
I could not give myself leniency.
Even alone
even if the person there didn't matter.
So when she left, a shed I still could not cry
and i split skin instead.
I had planned it for a while
nowhere near deep enough of course
couldn't be caught bleeding all around the school.
I had my blades in the bag,
I tucked them into my pocket.
some of the juice splattered itself onto tile floor
onto blue jeans
onto hate this word paper
wrapping itself around my arms,
pleading with me to please, please stop.
but who the **** cares
because
. . .
I smile a lot.
minute dewdrops clung
onto the tall grass blades
earlier this morning
Natalia May 2020
I found that darkness within,
That which kept me awake,
And would lead me into a spin.

Found under blades,
On mellow nights.
As the sun fades

The shadow appears.
Bringing all my sorrows,
All my worries and fears.

The knife would cure
The overwhelming feelings,
All which I saw impure.

Blood would run dry,
Leaving me scarred.
Yet, I would still cry.

That shadow is gone,
Though there are many more.
I am no longer a pawn.
Speaks for itself. I battle with self-harm, I have been winning for a while but that's not to say the thought doesn't creep up. But I find myself under a blade less & less as time has gone.
LC Apr 2020
blades of green lightly stab your feet.
the cool breeze caresses your arms
as the sun enhances your radiant face
you are at peace in this moment.
#escapril day 4!
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
“Duellem” (The Duel)
by Charles Baudelaire
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Two combatants charged!
                                             Their fearsome swords
brightened the air with fiery sparks and blood.
Their clashing blades
                                       clinked odd serenades
reminding us: youth’s inspired by overloud love.

But now their blades lie broken, like our hearts!
Still, our savage teeth and talon-like fingernails
can do more damage than the deadliest sword
when lovers lash about with such natural flails.

In a deep ravine haunted by lynxes and panthers,
our heroes roll around in a cozy embrace,
leaving their blood to redden the colorless branches.
This abyss is pure hell; our friends occupy the place.

Come, let us roll likewise here, cruel Amazon,
let our hatred’s ardor never be over and done!

Keywords/Tags: Baudelaire, translation, French, duel, combatants, duelists, swords, sparks, blood, blades, hearts, teeth, blood, talons, lynxes, panthers, abyss, hell, Amazon, hatred, ardor, furor, passion, fury, anger
Mark Parker Jan 2020
Lawns of grassy blades
flow towards the nightfall
through a silver dust squall
snowflakes spin cascades

Jack Frost pays the cost
putting us under his thrall
while we're held in his loll
Demeter's daughter is lost

Hades imparts frosty shades
until Persephone's call
ease's her mother's bawl
ending our snowy escapades
Nature poetry
leo arden Aug 2019
gleamed amongst the wild green

appeased buds, shined and sheen

this field of blades not red, but green

for rain erased the war it had seen.
Chris Jun 2019
Bathing in the sun
Soaking it's nutrients

This blade so sharp
Rub to fast
and you might get cut

But it shines so green
It offers shelter

I trust my food
to keep me safe

So mighty leaf!
Hide me away!
Abstract. Enjoy.
SMS Mar 2019
Purple and blue the sharpener
Was absolutely stunning.
Two holes, one for pencils and the other
For desperate child fingers.
At seven I didn’t know the consequences
of shoving my finger against that blade.
How could I have known that one
Sharp deep cut on my finger would
Entrap me in a world of self pain.
That, that day would continue over and
Over again for the next ten years.
A constant cycle of seeking solace from
Different types of metals.
On a quest for worth, in depthness of,
Not ones soul, but of superficial lines.
A mastered game of hide-and-carve
Deceitfully covering a plea for help.
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