Every morning she lines her eyes
To cover up the night's she's cried
Feeling so empty inside
Trying to hide all of the lies
She's buried herself behind a wall of humor and fake smiles
Hoping people will actually want to stay a while
Maybe tonight will be the night
That her nightmares wont give her a fright
But she knows better than to hope
She knows it only ends with rope
She tumbled down such a slippery slope
Never knowing how to cope
She's ready, already wrote her note
Hoping it's easier to bleed than choke
She pulls the blade across her overlapping scars
Laughing as it rips her apart
Becoming all too familiar with her eyelids
Finally getting relief from her sins

I wrote this back in February but decided to post it now.

The colour red drips like paint down the snow white canvas that is my arm;
the thin silver thread held between finger and thumb has brought a sense of calm.

Sometimes I pretend to be a poet
Because poetry is art
And art is beautiful forever,
Whether its burned, scratched, or torn apart

And you can judge me all you want
The little lines and splatters of ink everywhere
Judge me across the window pane
Like I'm a broken masterpiece beyond repair

All these words written in the night
All these emotions painted on my skin
Admire me from afar, sweetheart
Or you'll see the darkness within

One step too close you might break me
Shatter all my endless walls
Break my skin and cut me so deep
That I may never stop the fall

One little cut is all it takes
Watch my words bleed onto the page

One little tear until it breaks
Watch my demons flood onto the stage

One little cut,
One little tear,
One broken smile,
Watch it all disappear

One little word,
One little line,
One broken poet,
Well, the end is near...

It might be misinterpreted, but then again the beautiful part about poetry is that it can be interpreted multiple ways... Still needs to be edited but feel free to leave your emotions on this page :)
Temporal Fugue Apr 17

Short, crass, to the point
and cutting, so very deep

I've done this way to many times, and each time, the regrets are far more painful, than any wound inflicted. :\
Eloi Mar 23

Whole heartedly,
I stare into  obscenity,
Nothing can stop this,
It's taking over me.

I look into the mirror,
Despising what I see,
I realise that someone else is controlling me.
Im not alone in spirit,
I'm not alone in bone,
I'm looking for a way to descend into the unknown.

I hold a knife to my neck to see if it'll bleed,
I slice my jugular vein,
More  blood I want to see.
It has become an addiction,
Unsettling to some,
To me it's the most beautiful thing that could ever have been done.

I watch myself bleed out and   Incessantly laugh,
I stand naked, bleeding into the bath.

Maniac desires to kill and be killed,
Eyes turn yellow before the bath is is filled
With blood,
With crimson blood,
My body will flood,
I dream to join a regime where it is normal to feel how I feel.

No one can know it,
No one can see,
What is this demon living inside of me?

Take it away,
Relieve the pain,
Before I bleed out,
Never to watch my blood again.

Joelle Mar 22

The paper cut on my finger
Stings like the goodbye
That is permanent with ink
On the paper that you left me
Which cut me a second time

Dreaming Liza Mar 21

Heart beats and paper wings,
Tattered clothes and souls that sing.
Beauty that relies on grace,
Salty tears that run down the face.
Hopes that give a crown and throne,
Fears that wittle down to the bone.
Angels protecting with all their might,
Demons killing out of spite.
Making sure another dies,
She won't live to be a butterfly.

March 21, 2017.
I'm not sure what exactly this is, other than a culmination of my mind.
Dreaming Liza Mar 20

Beaches are lots of fun,
Until you realize you cannot
Go because your body,
Mind, and soul have been
Cut a million times.
Salt water burns people like me.

March 19, 2017.
I fucked up my body, mind, and emotional state again, and have to figure out a way to get out of going to the beach... I'll probably blame it on school
Chloe Chapman Mar 17

I like the colour purple,
     as it blooms across my skin,
The delicate spread of lavender,
     dappled with yellow and green.

I like the smell of iron,
     of copper pennies and blood
As it oozes form a scab
     or drips from a fresh cut.

I like the feel of my ribs,
     the bones beneath my skin,
The curve of my skull under my cheek,
     Or the joints of every knuckle.

Wrote this on a whim..
(and yes Colour is spelt right, that's how we spell it in England.)
Erin Nicole Mar 2

Heart in pieces, knife in deep.
The ache, the pain,
I start to weep.

Help me, save me,
Don't leave me here.
The pain has me crying,
Shaking in fear.

He got me, he lost me,
Now I'm in tears.
As I go, I whisper, and say,
"Help me, save me,
My love isn't here ."

This happens because I am just too trusting..
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