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Gregor Sep 22
Have you ever wondered
Why we are here?
On this planet, being plundered
By our emotions, by our carrier
Being lonely but still bothered
Sometimes, I feel like an extraterrestrial

Our lives can be definied as a trial
A trial, which we hardly desire
Which we just cannot admire
But somehow i still don’t see the denial-
People who may wanna be a fighter
Sometimes, I feel like an extraterrestrial

The word is just not what it would be
Everything seems to be immemorial
And unless,the human race is free
We just can’t belive that our trial
Has drawn to a close - but maybe
Sometimes, I feel like an extraterrestrial
Seeking for the meaning of life and just feel like an extraterrestrial
sadnspicy0 Aug 17
Sometimes it seems like my heart is rotten,
it can't feel anything but the pain,
and I can't touch it, 'cause wounds are open...
I am my calm and my hurricane.

Sometimes I think I've concurred the monster.
But then, again, the image starts clouding.
They say the human body is 60% water...
Well, that explains why it feels like I'm drowning.
I deeply apologize for the amount of I-s and my-s put into this poem.
Memories like broken glass
                     fill my heart                    my sensible soul
                                    shards of you
                  Tattering this perspective
                                  Leaving a broken person
                                                       behind                        these eyes
                  This Kerouac perception
                                       mounted on confusion
               for                                                      feelings left
            Baffling me like a child
                                                         Thunder and rain my
                    only solace
                                                       dark clouds             my psyche
mutually bound
                                      Like hurricane Galveston
   ripping apart               these thoughts                 these transgressions
                                     mortally comforting
          like cigarettes on Sunday
                                                             reaching forth      
               grasping at straws                                   so they say
                                                 they always say
but do they feel                                                  as I've felt?
                            alone                &                 tempered
                                       as glass
the glum periphery                                engulfing
                                        melting me down                     eating away
       into a pool of nihility
                                                   to harden              to break these chains
feels outdated          unscripted nonsense
                        in the background of my memories            souvenirs
      a setpiece             based on untruths

                                          sheer              crystalline              matter

They call
Words' Worth May 19
The person upstairs
Hasn't lost faith in you
He just comes downstairs
To put you on a level
You can jump from
And keeps doing that
Till you reach Heaven
That is Nirvana
N Mar 4
When everyone has abandoned me,
my shadow laid there next to me,
and it whispered “let’s go home”

And when my poems
turned into suicide notes,
I sharpened the knife,
and put it on my pillow
to sing me to sleep

A bottle of pills with
my full name on it
White and motherly,
I heard them call my
name from a distance

I swallowed the pills,
I swallowed the knife,
my shadow swallowed me

I am finally home
I want to go home.
N Nov 2019
I’m a light switch!

You see,
when I‘m switched on
everything turns bright,

and when I’m switched off,
I become one with the darkness

I could be
too bright at times,
or a an utterly dark self

It’s hard to recognize me
when it‘a dark, I’m unseen

But I can’t recognize myself
when it‘s bright, I’m blinded

All I need is the a
trigger to turn
a bright room
into a graveyard

So please be more
careful with me

I am a light switch
Aseel Aug 2019
For the last couple of days , I’ve been going through one of my many depressive episodes.

Medically, these episodes don’t meet the criteria  to be called “depressive” .
But I call them that because they remind me of the times when I was medically psychologically officially depressed.
Same darkness, same hopelessness.

Yesterday my mood wasn’t low. It was underground. Strong enough to drag me with it and watch me gasping for my breath, and laugh.

But yesterday was different.
for the first time I was depressed, but not lonely.
I had a chest under my head, a hand in my hair, and whispers in my ear: I love you, it’s ok.

Yesterday, for the first time, I wanted to beat my depressive episode.
Evie Jun 2019
in order of me to finally leave, i need to fall out of love with the world, my love is nostalgic and it cuts skin, i threw it away for peace, it was disturbing my routine, i hate how much i need, it how much i can't leave it, but feeling like i need to, because days are death in this place, but death has always been lovely, it's sickening to be alive and bored, i prefer fear, i prefer school days of endless black holes and friendly abuse, of looking in their eyes and them never looking at me, it was familiar and unpredictable, ******* fun, why is chaos fun, why, why, oh god, i want it all around me, i want it inside me, shaky hands, no breath left from crying, cutting my skin with hairdresser scissors, laughing like a maniac in the middle of the night, drinking until i pass out, i smell *****, it goes everywhere, coming to get me, voices are coming to get me, with their words of wisdom, how healthy and happy i need to be, and to that i spit all the ***** in your face and cry about it later, because you are right, but i am not right, the world isn't for me, so i need to stop loving it and just go.
im just tired of everything it never goes away always comes back and nobody gives a **** not even me
fray narte Jun 2019
But my sadness no longer
feels like being drowned.
It was just sinking
and sinking
and sinking.

And sinking some more.
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