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Poetic T Oct 8
If I was still alive, you think I'd be proud
        of you sticking that chemical imbalance

stuck out of your arm.

    The reaper be looking at you
                           with tears
                            falling from white waterfalls.

But if I was here, I'd be guarding you from
                         the mourning of regret.

You tried hard, but misery pushed down
                     on your artery...

And you tried to explain,
                                                        that you were lost
         before this moment and couldn't carry the load.

But this was meant to lessen the discomfort
                                            of me leaving you.
                    I'm still here,cant you hear me talking..

Pulling you back from the abyss of this, our mistake.

It took nine hours of words, dripping into your
your not alone, your not weak, I'll always be here..
                                                          ­                    with you.

Then you alwoke, it wanst me, but a breath of us.
                                                             ­                                                    Family,
                friends were my arms and they gripped you.

You'll see me,
                        hear me in others,
                          your never ever be alone again.
fraudelle Sep 21
She changed my clothes
She changed my pose
She changed my hair
She changed my prayer
She changed me
Like iron to rust

But like other girls
She did the same

In this story
You are the medicine
Who Created mr.  Hyde

Sorry? To late
Jekyll taking his grave
I'm already dead
Julian Caleb Jul 28
maybe we weren’t for each other,
maybe we we’re just like group of stars—
desperately refracting light in the darkness.

maybe we’re just bunch of atoms—
aligned in a specific pattern,
ready to be dispersed,
to be a new cluster of atoms.

maybe we weren’t a compound,
maybe we weren’t like the other elements,
that were made for each other,
to create an inseparable bond.

maybe we’re just an element itself—
constantly waiting to be discovered,
constantly waiting to be classified,
to be put in a particular group,
contantly waiting for the chemical reaction to take place,
but time stopped,
so as our reaction.

a poem i made after reading our chemical hearts by kathy sutherland
They come in twos and threes
Glistering silver seas
Overwhelming nausea
Worsen anxieties

I feel so far apart
Separate but not separated
How can I rest in peace?
When I am here resting in pieces
my beauty is the most powerful potion on Earth,
drink it and get transformed,
growing tree of golden apples,
who dares to catch me?
who dares to climb?
My book will be released soon.
For the moment you can get a copy of my book 'The Allure Of Time' on amazon.
Ryan Mar 27
One by one we fade to black
petals falling from a cheap bouquet
we're gone too soon it seems
victims of the black parade
a field of roses a shallow grave
This is actually a poem written for a novel series I'm working on!
Go away
I'm chemically unstable

There's no way
Now that we ever will be able

To be considered me
Truely alright, fine, good, normal

Medicine ungiven
Diagnosis wishing
Why others wouldn't listen?
Because they're talking flesh
Aaryn Nov 2018
it's destructive
it's painful
but slicing into my skin
every time I want to write a word down
is the best pain I have ever felt

Maybe this bleeding
isn't bad
and I'm getting rid
of all the pain

But then
I don't know when to stop
The song "Chlorine" by twenty øne piløts is all about how to write this way you have to be in a bad place and sometimes the addictiveness of the sorrow pulls you deeper and deeper and the writing isn't an escape but just another door back to our dark places... I see this in myself all too often...
A Simillacrum Nov 2018
In a minute,
I'm a *** smirk.
A shiny fang to show.
This pleasure, bundled
into nerves,
will decompose.

There isn't one chance.
Not one savior.
it still takes
its molasses-sweet-***-time.

I won't pray.
I won't wait.
As I am
& I shall be
the anti-divine.

I'm a literal *******.
I've long since comes to terms,
to terms with it.
I'm a depiction of the pits.
I've long since loved my worst,
my worst and best.


In a minute,
I'm a lost eye.
A stab wound, deep & old.
This sadness, bound
in my synapses,
wants me to know:

There is no escape.
No dissuasion.
it wrestles
my ill logos for control.

I won't pray.
I won't pray.
As I am
& I shall be
funny chemicals.

I'm a literal *******.
I've long since comes to terms,
to terms with it.
I'm a depiction of the pits.
I've long since loved my worst,
my worst and best.
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