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Hannah 18h
Leave them,
Leave it,
Watch out,
Move in,
Not enough,
Close the door,
Open up.
You will die
You will not cross their minds
They will spit on your grave
Few will visit with flowers
Few will drop their tears
Down on the mudd that emerged with
your remains.
I blacked out when
I was born.
My eyes were black
My future is black
It is dull
It is foolish to think
It will ever get better
Mood swings,
I take it all out on myself
Nobody will ever understand
but myself.
And they will still be blinded by
Plans and traditions and so and so.

Pretend I am dead
Although, I feel dead
They still see me,
Hug me,
Kiss me.

I go look in the mirror to
Make sure it is all real.

Or maybe
Just maybe,
I am in the daydream nation.
Alice 6d
the birds are flying backwards
(you and I are still together)
the fish swim on land
(you unpack your bags)
the attic is below ground
(you walk into my room)
the sky is red
(you tell me you always loved me)
the grass is gray
(you tell me you still do)
I cannot process the world the same way anymore
Once there was a woman who had a mental illness.

Everyone supported her.

Her husband completely understood her and never yelled at her when she forget her medication or had an expected attack of the giggles.

Her family checked in every day.

The medical staff in her community always did their job in a friendly and professional manner, never making any mistakes.

All of the community were accepting and understanding and every employer she ever had were educated on mental illness and full of empathy.

This is how bad this woman's mental illness actually was.

She actually believed this delusion.
I wish this delusion was real
Simon Sep 25
A girl who is lonesome on a regular basis, isn't based upon their own choice... But by their own desire to hold an identity bear without regulating (properly) the reasons as to why or how too essentially fix them?? Someone would say they aren't both comfortable and doesn't want to live this type of life... Except, they do, and they are very good at it. Do you not seriously think they aren't truly comfortable with it...?! Because by how I've gotten to know them, they seem entirely thrilled by this very aspect upon the features that drown them in sorrowful lust or delusional ecstasy for the illusional better!
Don't make me laugh.... You seriously think she "would" be comfortable with ANY of this...? WELLL.... DO YOU???!!! NO...! She simply... DOESN'T! And I wouldn't, either. Because I know what it's like to live in something that has tormented me right down to my very component cells. (Not truly knowing how to regulate the emotions that run those very component cells...DRY!) Something that ricochets the exposure over an entire even playing field that's become too GREATLY ODD! For something that doesn't make sense, doesn't also have too be the permanent source of lifestyle one has become standard upon (the now very normalized lifecycle of this very way of life itself).
So, what happens when someone who is lonesome and who's seemingly lost...while also supposedly meant too be good at it, simultaneously...? Well...isn't it obvious by now...?
"A lonesome girl who's good at being alone".....
A lonesome "star" of their own "nightmarish" melodramatic soap opera, has NO OTHER CHOICE...then too see it through... Till the very end!
But this time... Their not alone....
Saïda Boūzazy Mar 2019
pression and depression
stress and mess
death and dead
lonely and empty
fear and tear
illusion and delusion
me and you...
Pasandula Sep 12
Through the witching hour she cries

Veiled stories flood her mind

swept by mellifluous tones of lust

Still, conscience breaks through her skin

Traces of fingertips and lips

patterned on her supple skin

Yet her mind wanders; mistakes,

longing to touch the bottom

a bottomless abyss of sins
We've just about reached,
the height of this planetary peak,
a chip still on my shoulder,
for all I've done, I'll never know her.

Slip a mask on, lay out in the street,
the elite are coming, better spread the cheeks.
They say six feet apart, or six feet under,
****** by the government for centuries,
religious fairytale of wonder.

Where's the God of fiction,
to smite your enemies with conviction?
You took the book at face value,
the key is not above the clouds,
it's always been inside you.

Ashes, ashes, see it all fall down.
Eat the pain smuggled in,
by the red and blue clowns.
What doesn't **** you makes you stronger.
I chose the truth over a lie, stretched out to last longer.

Mind open wide, with the masses I am down,
eyes still open, call it corona,
I've been crowned.
gripped in the illusion
I create my own delusion
sometimes having a choice
is too much **** work
it's far more easy
to endlessly complain
and blame
my state of mind
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