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I starve myself
Because the intense growl in my stomach
is the only time
something tells me it cares about me

I take freezing showers
that make it hard to breathe
Because it's the only time
I fight to stay alive

I read past conversations
of my heart getting broke
Because it's the only time
I can control when I cry

I fake happiness
for those around me
Because I'd rather hide my pain
than my peers to pretend to care

I isolate myself
from everything
Because it's the only time
that I am the only one who can hurt me

I'm stuck in a depressive paradox;
the only way for me to survive my pain
is to make my own
Was going go use the term "borborygmus" in the second line, but decided that's too extra.
everything is so messy,
i feel this aching pain when i'm at home, and when i'm out with friends i feel lonely.
my mind feels like my bedroom, a right off.
sure, you can tell me to clean it and i can try,
i can want to clean it but no matter how many times i shove that ***** laundry back into a pile; and no matter how many times i throw everything out,
it all comes back out sooner than later. i crave a tidy life, i tidy mind and a tidy room, but it's so hard to keep up with.
i would rather let sleep cradle me in it's gentle arms for the rest of the day, and do it tomorrow.
though, tomorrow never comes and thus my room and my mind stay the same.
a vicious, but comforting cycle.
i like it when things stay the same, i like it more than i should.
all i've had my whole life is change,
now i find comfort in static, i find comfort in knowing what's going to happen tomorrow.
i find comfort having routine even though the cycle i'm in is destructive and makes me hate myself, it's hurtfully comforting.
that doesn't make any sense but here's something that might,
feeling something is better than feeling nothing
negative or positive
maybe that's why i stick around you.
you don't help me clean, if anything you make even more of a mess, but that keeps the routine going.
i'll clean tomorrow. then turns into tomorrow. then tomorrow. then tomorrow. then...
Madison Aug 6
We are a ticking bomb waiting to explode
But I guess I like danger
Empire Jul 1
Would you.... would you just....
Slide a delicate blade
Into my soft flesh
Then twist it slowly
It would hurt... wouldn’t it?
Please...?
Would you?
For me?
Because I’m not feeling well
And I can’t release it right now
So it’s festering, enlarging
The urge is so powerful...
I’d like it to hurt...
Not too bad...
Just enough...
Empire Jun 21
What am I doing
To myself?
I know it’ll hurt
I know it’s bad
I anticipate pain
Then I proceed!
What is this madness?
Why am I like this?
Iska May 12
I hate that I am eating.
I hate every bite, every swallow.
I hate every taste, every wrapper.
I hate the bile that raises in the back of my throat every time
I try to consume food.
I am so so very sick of it all.
So sick of needing to be high to even want to eat.
So sick of the feeling of being full
And I hate my need to be rid of it.
Of trying to force it to stay down
But secretly wishing that my ***** will drown me.
I hate myself when I do *****.
But I hate myself so much more when I don’t.
But they say I’m pretty
But they say I’m better
So why is it so hard
When every swallow is burning me alive
And every ***** makes me a liar.
And every skipped meal makes me a coward.
Jay M May 6
Picking up the pace
Trying to win the race
Attempting to flee this place...

Running wild
Movements swift
Like that of a hare
Legs pumping

I need to be free

Here I come
Prepared to strike
But the question is;
Are you?

Brace yourself
Collision is inevitable
Like the flow of time
Tick
Tick
Ticking away

Be careful
I'll strike
'Cause you know what I am
I'm a monster

Teeth bared
Believe me
I don't care if it's aired
I'll still tear you apart

So please
Get out of the way
As I come charging through
Like a rhino
Destroying all in my path...

- Emily M
May 6th, 2019
I've been a bit...aggressive lately. Just - no surprises...
Contoured Apr 27
And in the smallest matter of time,
My hair went numb.
My eyes no longer heard the crude respiratory patterns of the fellow cynic.
My fingers saw the over-appreciated path away from the now.
The mind I'd so delicately restrained surcharged your hurtful chatter for the worthlessness it possessed.
For I had found not what I thought to be the whole of myself,
But what actually was.
Among the wilted carnations,
The shrunken produce,
The wasted inquisition,
All the places in which you dwell,
I will no longer.
Eloise Rose Apr 12
Here I go again
Drowning my sowrrows
In destructive behaviours
Pylyp Apr 8
String me along
Pull me apart
Put back together
Abandon me

String me along
A little bit longer
Pull me apart
A little bit wider
Put back together
A little bit slower
Still I'm abandoned
Still I come back
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