Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
the
bot
tle
can ac
tually dest
roy lives with
its                    in
sides and it's lov
ely taste of happ
iness wich we w
ill never find ou
tside this bottle
of alcohol and s
ome stupid lies
alcohol is trash
try to be productive, but it's
hard to come up with the energy when
the only gift I may possess, my
words cut like a razor's edge and
leave me bleeding

with every negative thought,
another laceration


worthless,

lazy

(my ears are ringing)

"but wait, there's more!"

now comes the replays,

all the times I wasn't there

when I was really needed

(legs feeling weak)

all the people that have left this world

their faces

( I want to curl up in a little ball)

the last time I saw them, and my

mind struggles with that, incessantly

(I no longer want to exist)

until i'm too shattered, too
weak
to drag my *** out of this
bed
I don't know how much longer I can do this
Em Quinn Jan 30
i always associated the colour scarlett with a brightness.
the love of valentines day or the blush filling one's cheeks on a chilly saturday.
scarlett meant life to me,
and i never thought it'd represent opposite.

scarlett was love.

scarlett was a heart shaped box of chocolates,
the sparkle of fireworks,
a can of cranberry sauce on thanksgiving day.

scarlett was optimism.

scarlett was a thank you card,
a bright balloon at a birthday celebration,
or the painted lips of a woman on a first date.

scarlett was never meant to be pain.

scarlett wasn't meant to be a sharp bracelet of numbness,
a sleeve of anger that melted into the floor,
or the cold emptiness that accompanied silver.

scarlett wasn never meant to be anger.

scarlett wasn't meant to be the screaming i hear in my head at night,
the holes in the door,
or the deep stain of aggression falling against my knuckles.

the first syllable seems to fit too well nowadays.
i'm struggling.
Jamie Lee Oct 2018
Waking up next to you, and what do I see?
A smirk and a kiss, coming from someone happy
Your eyes cloudy from all of that dreaming
But clearly there's things between the lines
That I'm not reading

I have been questioned if I knew the person I loved
And I have answered yes, with such confidence
With a smile that could break boundaries, but apparently ignorant
How could I not know the other half of myself? My dearest friend?
But I see your scriptures, your withering sentiment
There are things I do not know yet

I have tried to crack open the skull and see what's inside
I wonder how much truth all find, and see how many lies have been fed to me
I could just live in ignorance, continue to think I know and live so easily
I have given life times of love
But is it enough?
Oh, maybe the lies just please me
But there are things in between the lines of your poetry that I am not reading

The insides of you may only be a stranger, I only know the paths of your skin
And the corners of your smile, and the symphony of laughter
I will continue to be on the outside, circulating my way in, but always meet a guard at the door
Pointing me the other way, from the person I adore
And who is that? I do not know anymore.
It is you, but who are you?

So many demons of yours that I have never been introduced too.
I thought my empathy and my heart had a couple of uses
Maybe I want you hold you, and kiss your bruises
Maybe I want you to take me down the dark hallways, past the guards and the locks
To tell me about your drug uses, and all of your abuses

But you sprinkle me with stardust until I am stunned
Keep me occupied with your words and your tongue
Keep me sleeping, 12 hours around the clock, over time
Keep me from reading in between the ******* lines
It's funny how society shows us how to opress

The depressed teens and adults of this generation.

“It’s just a phase”

“I had it worse when i was a child”

“Attention seeking liar”

“Get over it”

But maybe i can’t get over it.

Depression turned my once happy stream of joyful thoughts

Into a rainy, dark pit of sadness.

A pit only to be filled with

Helplessness, insomnia, self-destruction, and a little madness.

This illness has broken me

I feel like I have to carry the burden of darkness on my shoulder

And each time I try to get better, I regress.

The only way to repress my feelings is to let

Niagara Falls drip from wrists, to my stomach, to my hips, & to my thighs

And hide it with a mouthful of lies

My inner demons gained control over my brain,

Bringing me so much pain that it became hard to do anything.

Even eating became a chore

Because it was hard to eat when I can’t even look in the mirror without fear

Of the Image standing in front of me.

****, worthless, stupid

You don’t even have the drive to stay alive,

So why care about yourself or your health?

You’re better off dead.

But of course, it was all in my head, so no one understood.

No one understood that i stayed up til 4 in the morning

Having a mental breakdown, with death on my mind.

I just wish someone could reach behind my mask and find the real me

The sad me

The broken me

The mentally drained me

The me that has been drowning in my own darkness for years now
sorry if its not the best.
JAIA Jul 2017
****** thoughts keeping me confined
Enter inside lets see what you can find
Plenty of negativity always haunts my mind
Repressed memories about mistakes
Emotions I can't express because of the stakes
****** thoughts roam amuck with no breaks
Starting to wonder what inside me is broke
Is it I or is it life that's the joke
Ostracized by myself that's irony
Not even wanted by myself I should fire me
Acrostic poem about depression, feedback would be greatly appreciated.
Breanna Ables Jul 2017
who am I suppose to be?
what did I do to deserve this?
lost childhood do to your hands.
you came into my bedroom, full intentions
to cause destruction.
why did you choose me?
a seven year old
who dressed in pink and wore flower crowns?
I guess your were a monster who fed
off the pain.
three years.
I suffered for three years.
you don't care, you never did.
I use to call you family.
but now you are just Anthony.
Bad Vibes Jul 2017
I am far more disappointed with my life than you can understand.

My 'friends' are ******.
My job is lifeless.
My soul is black.

I used to think deep and dark is beautiful but now it just feels endless.

-t.s.
subpar star Oct 2016
you tell me that i write the most beautiful words you've ever read but thats where you're wrong. these words are not beautiful, they are not a work of art. these words are full of agony and heartbreak and pure, raw emotion. dont you dare tell me they are beautiful. i coughed them up from the depth of the pit of my despair, swirled them around my curse-filled mouth until they tasted of blood, and then spit them out onto paper, splattered and messy. these words are not beautiful.
Next page