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And why do some of us suffer more ?
The pain
The tests
The sacrifices
The blood sheds
The tears
The promises
Why do some of has nothing to do about it?
Are we here in this world to be here in this exact place?
Or are we here by mistake?
The question remains so unclear
And we keep thinking again and again
In an endless cycle like it’s a time loop
A paradox which has no end, no solutions.
Supposedly we have to live with it
And die with it in our graves.
This is for the mental condition i have.
Kristen 1h
They say these stretch marks are my tiger stripes,
signs of my strength.
But I have never wanted to be a carnivore.
I don't want to prey on those smaller than me,
the ones so fragile I think they may crack.
I want to be a sunflower.
Long, and tall, and slim,
tilting toward the sunlight,
not just unafraid
but yearning to be seen.

I have not felt the sun on my skin in so long
that I have forgotten how it feels to burn,
to let the rays rest on my goosebumps
and sink into the warmth.
I think I am destined to be cold.
To shiver under my own scornful gaze in the bathroom mirror,
because even though I only ate dinner,
I still woke up fat.

I never asked to be covered in stripes,
these scars that have defined me and
defiled me.
Before I even knew what it meant to be marked
I knew to hide.
I knew to pray that the earth would swallow me whole,
because at least in the ground nobody has to see me.

The sunflower turns to face the sun,
to feel the warmth on its petals.
And one day I will peel off these layers of death on my bones
and I will face the sun
and let it burn.
What is home?
When you no longer feel life rushing through your bones.
What is love?
When even if it’s conditional it’s just not enough.
What is life?
When you’re constantly wanting to taste the clouds and have it stop.
Empire 8h
tw suicidal thoughts

Something about these pills...
It just rubs me the wrong way...
Something eerie about them
Their quantities
Their psychoactive properties

I just don’t want them in my head
Or I want them all at once
High doses
Or none at all

And why
Why the ****
Do I get excited
A sick hit of adrenaline
Thinking about swallowing them all
And ending it now

What’s wrong with me
Nothing’s wrong
Everything’s wrong
I’m fine
I’m broken
I’m sick
I’m losing my **** mind

And somehow...
Somehow the pills keep me a little bit sane
And i am here;
Silently gasping in this thin air.
Everybody's on the other side,
Looking at me with a carefree smile
Thinking i got life handled just fine.
When i am nothing but an absolute chaos,
Barely grasping on to dear life,
Praying for my sweet end every night.
Whatever struggle you're dealing with right now, i'm so frickin amazed by how strong you are. Look at you, still surving despite all the hardships. You're a badass and a real fighter!
The mangy lab
and the golden retriever
sat waiting
as if asking – which would I choose?
Which was no choice at all.

Both belong to me
and both would follow me
at heel.
One to dog my steps
and one to push his head
under my empty hand
to let me know I have a friend.
'black dog' is a well used picture of depression, but I'm trying to learn fresh analogies that avoid using colour or age or gender to erroneously epitomize a characteristic.   Does mangy conjure up enough of a picture for you?
I stand out here alone in the night,

The sky is almost bright,

Birds tweeting, dogs barking in the distance, leaves dancing in the wind,

And Im smoking a cigarette, that is becoming shorter and shorter.

In front of me, is an old house,

And in that house is a flashy room in which a TV’s playing,

While everyone is long asleep, there is only me and the person in that room awake,

There is a strange  connection between us two now and he will never know.

Suddenly the dogs stopped barking, birds kept on tweeting, the room kept on flashing,

Smoke is rising to the almost bright night sky,

Vaporizing in the dancing leaves,

I’m waiting for something.

Sensing the inevitable loneliness around me in the deep night,

I thank for the moment of silence to heal my spirit from the wounds of yesterday,

The cigarette  is dying,
And so am I.
Nobody 1d
It’s easy to dismiss bitter words,
and ignore mocking tones.
Tease them with pretty songs,
so you don’t feel alone.
You can’t quiet the madness,
of a deviant mind.
We all have secrets.
What makes you cry?
It’s the sway of a mood swing,
try and mask a dark face.
Or maybe fake a smile,
to conceal your heartache.
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