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Starry Aug 2019
No one is the same
No one is normal
Or perfect
So girl
Start looking in the mirror
See yourself
Instead of an dellusion
For the delusion is death
Starry Aug 2019
Uh, yeah
Another one of those
(This is for my man the 14th
Dalai Lama)
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
What they don't know is
The *******, the drama (uh), the guns, the armor (what!)
The city, the farmer, the babies, the mama (what!)
The ghettos, the drugs (uh!), the children, the soldiers (Uh!)
The tears, the hugs, the love, the slugs (c'mon!)
The funerals, the wakes, the temples, the coffins (uh!)
The heartbroken mothers - it happens too often (why?)
The problems, the things we use to solve 'em (what!)
Mustang, Bhutan (uh!), Kathmandu , ottawa (c'mon!)
The hurt, the pain, the dirt, the rain (uh!)
The ****, the hate, the work, the gain (uh!)
The friends, the foes, the protests, the nazis (what!)
The autopsies, the shows, comes and it goes (c'mon!)
The racism, the envy, the phony, the friendly (uh-huh!)
The one that gave them the slugs, the one that put 'em in me (woo!)
The snakes, the grass too long to see (uh, uh!)
The lawnmower sittin' right next to the tree (c'mon!)
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
What we seeing is
The streets, the chinese, the uiygers, torture (uh-huh)
The options, get shot, go to jail, or getcha *** kicked (a'ight)
The human rights , the part they are of the puzzle (uh-huh)
The release, the warning, "Try not, to get in trouble." (****!)
The bullies, the odds (uh), guantanamo, yakuza (what!)
The new enemy, the prank, the ****, the airports (****!)
The cell, the airport security, the ride down south (uh-huh)
The greens, the boots, camp delta, the dogs  (uh!)
The fightin', the stabbin', the pullin', the grabbin' (what!)
The trade center, nobody knows what happened (what!)
The wars, revenge, the plots (uh!)
The sleep devipravtion, the one hour that's not (uh!)
The silence, the dark, the mind so fragile (a'ight!)
The wish that the streets of lhasa would have took you when they had you (****!)
The days, the months, the years, despair
One night on my knees, here it comes: om mani padme hum
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
This here is all about
My girlfriend, my parents (uh-huh), the life that I live (uh-huh)
Through the night I was his (uh-huh), it was right what I did (uh-huh)
My ups and downs (uh), my slips, my falls (uh)
My trials and tribulations (uh), my heart, my baoudings (uh)
My mother, my father - I love 'em, they annoy me (uh!)
Wish God, I didn't have 'em, but I'm glad that he made 'em (uh!)
The airplanes, the fire, the strays, the cats (what, what!)
The guns, knives and bats, every time we scrap
The hijacking, the kidnapping', the robbin', the stealin' (uh!)
The **** hit the ceilin', little girl with no feelin's (****)
The frustration, rage, trapped inside a cage
The beatings till the age I read (a'ight!)
Somebody stop me (please!), somebody come and get me (what!)
Little did I know that the Lord was ridin' with me
The dark, the light (uh), my heart (uh), the fight (uh)
The wrong (uh!), the right (uh!), it's gone (uh!), a'ight!
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
They don't know who we are
Everyone says I have trauma,
But they don’t know a thing.
I always thought I didn’t do things by halves,
But I only do the last end of suffering.

There is no trauma there,
Should I hate to disappoint you?
(I don’t.)
Everyone thinks I have trauma.

And when I feel strong,
Is it ever good enough,
Or too much, too healthy?
Must I be faking,
Or am I just dissociating?
Everyone believes I have trauma.

There is no trauma back there.
Pete King Aug 2019
Check.

Relief.

Check.

Relief.

Check.

Relief.

Pause.

Don’t check.

Un-pause.

Sudden and devastating irony that one’s skin can crawl, yet none of their limbs work.

The only animated parts being my heart as it hammers against the rigid, perspiring cage that it so desperately tries to keep alive.

And my lungs, as they desperately gulp for air like they may never taste it again.

For who knows if oxygen exists in the darkness that lurks at the epicentre of the collision between fact and fiction.


Check.

Check again.
OCD is fun.
Hello Daisies Aug 2019
***** my body
The needles thread through me
Pierce me Pierce me
I'm crying in thread
Inside I'm mostly dead

I knot inside
Shooting the needle down me
Slicing softly my skin bleeds
I'm aching on my knees

Help me help me
No one hears me
All I ever cry
Help me help me
The thread is twisting

No one's to blame
It's such a shame
After all the twisting
My thread is slowly ripping

Center in my arms
Give me more scars
Stabbing stabbing
Where's my mommy and daddy

They left me to bleed
They broke their seed
needles run inside
Laughing and breaking my sanity

I'm dying I'm dying
God help me I'm crying
The needles are physical
Not metaphorical

Bruise my skin
I let the craft win
What is it creating
I'm still awaiting

I think it's trash
My colors all clash
If you throw me away
Will it stop the gruelling pain

Please I beg
God please lay me to bed
I've had far too much thread
My blood is turning to lead

The needles crept in long ago
They put on a menacing show
I want to go home
But there's...no where to go

My needle can't be tied off
The thread only falls
Blood platters
My heart clatters
I'm left untied
God please you know how hard I've tried

Tie my thread off for good
Please, if you would
Stop the sew
End me and all that I know
I'm in a lot of pain I think it's anxiety but my God it hurts like needles in my arms and tben they feel like a heart attack
Lighter Jul 2019
I wonder how much longer I can go on like this
When is sick sick enough
I know im not right
I know I need help
But I fight with myself on how bad I really am
In my world 60kg isnt low enough
Whats wrong with 55kg?
Is a day without food guilt enough to have some the next?
Or will I yet again draw that blade across to remind myself that I gave in?
When is enough enough?
wolf mother Jul 2019
Signal failed
Signature drooping
Telltale signs
Neurotransmitters: misfiring

Preoccupation,
Glitching phalanges
Losing grasp on reality
Creativity: collapsing

Paranoia resurfaces
Obsessions, obscure
Reduced to, as follows:
Fallacies: logical

Dissociation abundance
Time? Never on it
Obstacles: insurmountable
Retention? Improbable

Mimic and nod
Emotion: mirage
Glass full of emptiness

Present
As
Functional
bess Jul 2019
I hope that when you looked at me and told me I was beautiful,

You didn't just look at my face.

I want you to look into me;

Into eyes that watch wildfires burn,

I want you to study the scars and stories that mark my skin.

At the wrinkles and creases from years of scrunched noses,

Furrowed brows,

And unceasable laughter.

But maybe all you did was look.

Look at the way my hips curve
And my hair curls,
The length of my legs,
The width of my chest.

But I hope that you know

That my body is not what makes me beautiful.
an anthem
Philomena Jul 2019
I remember the emptiness in your eyes
Waiting for you to die
You never knew I turned out just like you
What a sick twisted game it is
I remember speaking to you softly
Watching you struggle to eat
And I remember telling you
"It's me, your grand-daughter"
Only for you to just stare in my face
I remember hours of cards in the waiting room
And the very last time I saw you
Tied to a bed
Lost in a dream you would never escape from
Fighting so hard
Ultimately to only give up
Almost two years
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