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Allyssa Oct 12
He asked her this one question.

She, beside him, curled up in her small frame. Knees tucked to her chest, pink lips, and coffee stained teeth, she smiled small.

"I've been asked this question by many," she says, "And I've always said things like someone's voice, or the way they held me. Maybe it was their laugh or the way my heart ached when I smelled their t-shirts at night.
You, though, will always leave me with an unanswered question.
I don't know why I love you but for some reason, my heart will whisper your name when I'm too intimate with a bottle pressed to my lips.
When the tears I cry are warm from the sound of your voice when it pours through the videos we've laughed in.
I don't think I love you but my heart does. Maybe that's why my mind cannot think of any reasons because you lie in my chest where it aches the most."
Excerpt from a page torn out of my diary of missing you.
Andrew Oct 3
"Cry," I tell her.
My arms surround her curled body.
"It's alright."
One day,
when you have wept your final tear,
you will come upon that pool,
that contained every tear,
from every disappointment,
every betrayal,
every heartbreak.
And you will look down into it,
seeing your reflection alone.
"Only then will you have realized the necessity of your pain."
Lee Jackman Oct 8
Some people call me lazy, They think im being daft.
They say i cant be bothered, that im sitting on my ***.
They say im being distant, Not picking up my phone and pretending not to hear them shout when walking out alone.

They say that i looked happy, like i didnt have a care, when i was dancing on the tables drinks spilling everywhere.
I find it all to easy to hide the way i feel, pretending im not lonely when there's people everywhere. I make myself the center hoping that they dont see, all of the anxiety thats been building up in me.

The problem i have is hard to see, its hidden in my personality, it pulls at my emotions, makes me want to flee i hope this poem helps you see.
It feeds on my fears makes me want to hide, they call it depression, now im trying not to cry.
Every days a struggle, everything i do is hard. Man i feel like such a ******.

So closing this poem the only way i know how is to thank all my loved ones all over the world. You've always been there even when im a prat or or needed to call just for a chat. I love you all dearly i hope you can see just how much you all mean to me.
This is the 1st poem i have ever shown anyone. Please excuse any spelling, Im dyslexic.
gae frogg Oct 8
I havent slept in a while
And the sheets of my bed are no longer hooked to the corners of my mattress.
But nothing's wrong, its just a messed up sleep schedule
I havent been eating great but the fruit and vegetables section in my fridge still becomes barren every now and again
But nothing's wrong I just dont care about my organs
My tears are breaking out even more than my skin is, and even with lip balm I still cant crack a smile without cracking my lips
But nothing's wrong I'm a teenager it's normal to be moody and have acne...right?
Nothings wrong when I cry at the smallest things like the world just stopped spinning
"If you keep watching that zombie show where they bash the zombies heads in, you'll become desensitized to violence" but nothings wrong when I have to stop watching a movie because someone got shot.
Nothings wrong when my mom tells me to clean up room because the clutter is cluttering my mind. But maybe it's not my room. Maybe it's the stress. Maybe the mess makes me feel safe like a wall of emotional support.
Nothings wrong when I avoid my laptop at all costs because I know itll say I'm behind on schoolwork so I dont use it anymore and it sits in the corner of my messy room.
Nothings wrong when my parents intervene in my slacky behaviour and I say "I promise I'll care more" but I do care just not about reputation and organization. so I escape to my room and sulk in the corner for a few days till they've forgotten about that conversation.
Nothings wrong when I'm reading a book or writing a movie review but as soon as my phone comes out I'm a bad student and should concentrate on something important.
Nothings wrong when I try to reach out and they say "everyone feels sad sometimes it normal" yeah. It's normal. But what's not normal is staying up till 4 everyday wondering if something will ever change. If there will be something to break the pattern.
Nothings wrong when I cry all night and dye the ends of my hair blue out of impulsivity.
Nothings wrong.
Nothings ever wrong
Nothing will ever be wrong
And I'm just a stupid nobody with nothing wrong in their life.
eF Sep 29
The tears make it hard to see
Like driving in the rain with no wipers.
I don’t know where this message will go
Like my hands are off the wheel.
I’m swerving out of control
And I’m almost happy you’re not here.
I miss you so much.
You mean more to me than a nice paintjob and that’s saying a lot.
I wish tears could clean a car.
I hope you know you mean the absolute world to me forever.
You are so perfect.
Em Sep 29
One million reasons to cry
Yet I can't find
Which one's mine
im back again hoes
anyway does anyone wanna play on ps4 or something
Siyana Sep 28
He spent his life crying Daisy, while she danced on his grave...
Mansi Sep 28
Normal days are the hardest
to remain close to God

On good days
There is something to
Celebrate with Him

On bad days
There is something to
Cry to Him about

On normal days
Everything feels good
That I forget how much
I need Him
A cloud of judgement lingers above my head
Raining internal torment
I bottled up all my days.

To pluck my faith planted
On the glistening prayer grounds on high;
Groomed by our keeper
Is his will, for he knows Yahweh grieves
Whenever a lost child is ensnared in
His sweet elaborate labyrinth, well learned
In our achilles heel.

Starlight skies painted within our dome,
Border that opens not for the living.
Above you are where you reside,
I call your name, Yeshua, Most High.

Rid me from his endless carousel?
My mind has spun into sheer madness!
Ah me!
I ***** puddles of anguish, for he is
Hellbent to steer me on to troublesome roads.

Is there not a place that i may flee from the harsh clouds above,
A place that knows not the scent of my curse,
Where i may lay my rigiours bones on the gentle lap of bliss,
Till the blast of my demise has comes to pass?
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