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Zack Ripley Mar 2019
You tell yourself lies to get through the day
because you feel like no one will believe what you say.
No one understands how cruel they can be to you.
They tell you they love you and that's all it takes
to forgive them until the next time they break.
Deep in your heart you know that's not what love really is.
Take it from someone on the outside looking in.
They're starting to do damage to more than just your skin.
If you don't get out now I fear it's only a matter of time
before you become a victim of the most heinous crime.
It's okay to ask for help.
It's okay for any of us to.
It may not seem fair to tell people about our struggles.
It may not seem right.
But if you let someone help,
eventually they will help you find your light.
Just like I am, the shadows play in the night light, the moon flowers open as my eyes, so I witness their glory, the moon is a friend, who knows my every worry,
the moths eat away at the trees, frogs splash in a water spring.
When I dose off, the night guards me as I sleep walk,
a lizard slithers onto a rock,
the night is awake but when I it starts to slip off, I curse the thought that day is fixing to start, people can see me in the light, live people that have no heart, the demons do come at me when it's dark but at least I know they'll soon have to depart,
they cannot damage my soul, no, not like those that live.
Read my thoughts on YourQuote app at
Holly Mar 14
Some people
will have you believe
that damage can be beautiful,
and it's true
that you can find
the sunlight through the clouds.
But my trauma is not pretty.
It is an ugly bruise
that everyone thinks is okay
to poke at,
and watch the black and blue
attempt to change colours
when it heals.
There is no beauty
in crying alone at 3am,
spilling alcohol down your shirt
at a party you're only attending
to drown your issues in,
swallowing tiny little pills
to feel somewhat okay,
avoiding any comfort
because you feel you deserve less.
It is a lonely place to be,
stuck in a broken mind
with one-way windows.
I can romanticise my pain
as much as i want,
but it will always be
a toxic relationship
i have with myself.
And it is not beautiful.
Louise Mar 12
Take my body and undo the damage
I've done to myself.
Please let me love myself
like you once pretended to do.
Thomas W Case Feb 24
I flirted with
the sun as it
through the trees,
their naked branches
spread wide,
wet with dew.
Sticky sweet
winked with the
promise of a new day.
Swans mate for
and die in the spring.
And she
lied a little less than
the moon, and
the fog, and the
wet cat drunk on
feline dreams.
Her eyes looked like
they hated her face;
like they
wanted to
leap out, and
roll down the street,
find a mountain brook to
wash off all they had seen.
She saw too much...
felt too much,
as the fractured dawn
and flew away like
a mockingbird.
For my first love who hurt way too much.
eve Feb 23
you sit and pout
about everything
try to work out your problems
by finding ways around them
but that is not the way life goes.
you're slowly running out of time
without realizing it
you're stuck in your head again
you feel like it's too hard to get out
but this isn't you
i know me and you aren't acting quite like her
this isn't you and you know it
but i know you don't know much about yourself
been too busy absorbing the personalities that surround you
you're slowly losing yourself
without realizing it
you're going too black out one of these days,
they say
and those words aren't wrong
they might foreshadow destiny
but only you can stop them
only you can put an end to the words that they tell you
you can either choose to ignore them or consume them
but you better choose
you better choose by not what you feel but what you believe is enough.
you've got to keep going,
even when everything feels like it isn't worth it.
you over analyze everything,
try taking a step back
every once in a while
cause' only you have the ability to turn wrongs to rights
Amelia Feb 11
I can’t deal with this anymore,
the world is damaged to its core.

When I look around me,
disaster is all I see.

Cooped up in fear,
what is really happening here?

Confinement of body, mind and soul,
yearning to feel whole.

Piece by piece it’s falling apart.
Please I beg, can we restart?

How do I begin
in a world that is caving in?

How do I progress
when the world is filled with emptiness?

How am I blessed
when there’s barely anything left?

Just please...tell me
Stan Jan 30
You are
The damage that I needed
To open my eyes
To not trust so easily

But here I am
Months later
Calling you
To damage me again
Holly Jan 15
My mother was
a cruel joke
taught with a raised voice.
Her pain
the foundations
for the better half of
my childhood,
her loneliness the next.
There is a forceful kind of sadness
that comes with being raised
by a woman
destroyed by her past,
your future is determined
by her emptiness.
You are left to wonder
how you could ever be
any different
than those who came before you
If living hurt this much.
But I want to be more
than what I was taught to be.
More than skin
and bone
and a raw heart
always ready to stop beating.
I love my mother
but her tragedy
was slowly becoming mine
and I couldn’t deal with that.
Holly Jan 14
My body is a house
for a horde
of emotions,
locked away
in all the different
cavities of space.

Anxiety rents the room
at the bottom
of my stomach,
coming and going
whenever he pleases.
An open door
into an isolated room
filled with never-ending noise.

In the middle
of my sternum
is where you find happiness,
her glow
- sometimes hidden
but never permanently
She warms my chest
when it feels
too cold
for anything else
to live there,
and keeps my hearth going
in times i was sure
it would die out.

I feel anger
in my lungs.
Their mass pressed against
My rib-cage,
tightening unbearably
against the bars around them.
They like to be the one
to break the valuables
I hold in my hands.

She comes to party
right underneath
the surface.
All skin
and no substance.
My capillaries
burst into patches
of reds and pinks,
the colours
she likes to splatter
against the walls.
Always the unwanted guest
that turns up
without an invitation.

And loneliness;
they like to
make their bed in my head
Wrapped up
and suffocating any air
around them.
Boxes of memories
towering around them
with no motivation
to indulge in
anything that would make
their place livelier.
The lights are
always off in there,
so i can never see them
but i always feel their presence.

My body is a hostel
available for purchase
from any feelings
that need a
place to sleep.
But it is the
one place
where the only person
who doesn't feel
at home
is me.
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