Miss Me 3d
There's such an emptiness
   The void always present
Leaving no desire
    For this life or another
Falling to your knees
    Frantic for answers
Never believing you'll
    Ever be of worth
In the eyes of others
    Is where it hurts
The pain ever growing
    Oh how it badly hurts
The chase of a love
    That will never be
Without fail
    Again tossed into the sea
Drowning in the depths
    Of the deep blue waters
And knowing that's all
    It ever will be
Just how can you expect
    Anything more of me
There's no rebuilding
    The you and me
It never being your fault
     The day you finally
WILL leave me
zane b 3d
i can exist in a world where people do things that upset me, but don't hate me.
i can exist in a world where i can get negative feedback, and still be a good person.
i can exist in a world where my parents fight with me, but still love me.
i can exist in a world where i am safe and i will not let myself be hurt again.
i can exist in a world where i am loved.
i can exist in that world.
i can exist.
therapy musings i guess.
my therapist said the first sentence to me and it....sparked something in me?
if you’re on drugs for a while,
you start to forget how you started.
now, when the doc asks me how the meds are,
i always say “fine.”

"i'm losing myself, but i'm fine."
something is missing but i don't know what it is.
Its the feeling you get when your mind is a war zone, a warped home where grimmy thoughts roam, with no guidance or support zone, your so frightened to fight it on your own. More poems of suicide and self harm, you ever dreamt you died and felt calm? Just a truant mind with health crimes, help cant cure a ruined life in Hell's palms. You fell in to a ditch and because of it popping bottles of pills that you mixing your vodka with, then nodding off a bit picturing god and all of it, a doctors on the phone telling you to vomit it. Consistently monitored, the alcohol, the quiting , the six, seven seizures, its the moment a schizophrenic freezes, hearing a voice that whispers when it pleases, the vigilant bulimic, the obsessive and compulsive,the bipolar mood swing and stomach ulcers. Its the hidden issues that the medicine alters. Its the judgmental that the depression repulses ,the anxiety, the psychs with the notes, the post traumatic stress and the vices to cope. The prices of dope,the ice in the pipe that you smoke. The knife the rope, the temptation of slicing your throat. Its the stigma determined to scare you, when the bourbon your served is your urgent repairer. When not feeling nervous becomes rarer and your mom quits  her job to become your permanent carer. Its the psychotic episodes, the days that you lost seeking help, but being crazy isn't something I am ashamed to admit, so stay strong anybody who relates to this, please.
Why am I missing
When I am here.
Who is this person I see
Standing in my place

finding I often ask myself,
or whoever you are...
who am I..?? where am I..??
what have I become..??

Can someone answer me,
Answer he, she, this entity.
my only constant question...
where have I gone?

How did this happen to me..??
What's that you said?
Wait, you, me, who
I could be you if you are me.

when will this end..??
What's happening now..
Whoever up there,
is there anyone...

for what sins I've done,
all that is wrong of me;
will you forgive me
answer my plea and...

Please let me go.
Let me know
The darkness behind our eyes
Malice within our souls
The rebellion our menace
The prison we locked ourselves in
A cage we built to trap our wild hearts
Treading the fine line between
Normalcy and psychopathy
Vengeance, violence and brutality
All that we've masked in our grace
Hiding beneath our placid demeanor
Gentle breaths tender caresses
Soft lips whispering sweet nothings
Our words carefully scripted
Depicting a picture of purity and perfection
False sincerity reaching out to others
Only to burn all that we lay our hands upon
Malingering through days
Sugar laced actions and innocent smiles
Life is but a masquerade
As we dance or days away
The name "Leila" means beauty and darkness of the night..
Skia A Mar 3
I have found that often, love is like a cult...
Often easy to fall into and join, yet, hard and debilitating to leave.
Just from personal experience.
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