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Abby 1d
No please not again
I worked so hard
Relapse...
Just for all the progress to be washed away in a second
I worked too hard I can't give up
Relapse...
The scissors are getting closer
I'm trying not to fail
Relapse...
My breathing quickens
It feels like there is only one right answer
Relapse...
I have relapsed a lot it never gets any easier. I have gotten to almost a month and something happened and I tried for so long  but I relapsed. Relapsing ***** a lot but you are not alone❤️‍🩹
Rain 4d
I remember,
Going back to class,
After taking the knife to my skin.
By knife, I mean the stolen box cutter,
From engineering class.
Meant to be used for cardboard.

I remember,
Sitting through class.
Letting that ridiculous long skirt,
Absorb my ****** pain.
Fearing, it would seep through.
And someone would see.
Although it never did.
And no one saw.

I remember,
Hiding in the bathroom.
For three periods in a row.
Clawing at my thighs,
Because the only tool I had,
Was a pen.
So, I wrote cruel things.
Promises, words to end things.
And when I emerged, glazed.
No. One. Noticed.

I remember,
How much I wanted them to see me.
To look me in the eye,
And see my suffering.
But, no one did.
No. One.
My painful memories
Maria Etre Jun 26
Have you ever thought
that a poet's pen
performs
"open heart "surgery
every time
it writes?
I keep living
As though love
Comes with strings attatched
And try as I might
I cannot cut through
That lie.
Charmour Jun 12
Yes,
I cut deep enough
to feel alive
But never deep enough
To die
Nobody Jun 2
please not again
this is happening to fast
i don't want to lose all my progress
relapse relapse relapse.

the blade is too close
i'm so close to a collapse
i'm trying to not fail
relapse relapse relapse.

my breathing is quick
recovery is full of traps
i trip on a wire
relapse relapse relapse.
it hasnt happened so far but i'm scared i just feel like something awful will happen if i dont
Trace blue rivers that run
through the caves
beneath soft
raw ground

tear sweet
rotten lines--
scars
in rich
brown

feel angry, hot magma
red
cascading
d
  o
    w
      n

The Earth will tremble
and
b  r  e  a  k
still
Do not hesitate
remember why

The ground is raw
from your own
hungry greed

it bears the sweet lines
of rotten honey
bees

and cleans the mess
of your angry
hot red
Kyla May 21
the tightness increases
i have to leave
wrist to elbow
i can’t breathe
Laokos May 12
the trees branch as they grow,
the wind cuts through the forest,
the sea breaks into itself eternally—
this is cleaving,
this is creation.  

cells split,
shadows stretch long and thin
over trimmed grass
as the light returns
to the other side.

and now the moon floats
in ghostly meditation,
hinting at what’s hidden
and how close
it all seems sometimes.

I was never far from myself,
except when I was,
and writing this doesn't
make any sense—
why should it?
who’s keeping score?

who’s the grand cosmic judge
of all artistic expression everywhere
across all
dimensions and time?

nobody.
that's who.
nobody cares.
that’s the point.

it doesn't matter what
I say on this page,
even if it's terrible,
even if it’s rotten,
even if no one reads it.
it felt right
to let it flow freely in the moment,
to spill it all out.
that’s what matters—
the spilling of it.

there’s a sweetness in that.
in the clean slice of the razor
and the blood it draws—
quiet,
quick
and true.

drip,
drip,
drip,


all over the page.
Ian K Mar 7
Marble is cold
like a lover, scorned.
Hard. Cutting.
It rejects heat.

Yet,
If you should touch
that frigid matter,
painstakingly, you can bring it to life;

make it look like there is blood
flooding through that stone.
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