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Haylin 6h
As we weep
The flowers grow
From the pain
We rise
But when anger strikes us
We burn
We turn to ash
Once we are ash
We stay ash

We were told by our mothers
That the spirits
That the winds that blow against our skin
Will one day move through us
And take what little of us remains
The wind will soar and carry us
Across fields and streams and mountains

But the winds have died
There are no more tears
No fire burns
And the flowers don't grow

We've killed ourselves
Alexis Oct 12
Out of all 150 poems of mine
none are about depression
although I dedicate my poetry to my flaws.

and maybe I could write one,
but I have no depression poems
only poems about wanting to die.

so maybe I am not depressed,
but yes,
I do not
want to exist anymore.
that at least,
I am sure of.
im definitely deleting this later ahaha
in hope in spite in hate in honesty in
the end of everything we can see free
flow in the good river the clear river there

at all sides of where and when and care
so clear see the fish float over and over
their own shadows and under the air

and under the water wave and cure
and blur always in sun sparkle and moon
soak silver not dreams not drift not thought

but in all breathing blood beat and song and
in hope and in time in extremes of loss
or love making us float towards words

as reeds blow and bend as wind blows always
and sinking there in depths inevitable and soon
as time our lives are pulled out to an end
Alexis Jul 10
many preach of being immortal as a cure,
but i see no greater curse
than living--
not even living;
simply existing
until the Earth itself
takes its' eternal rest .
i have never been afraid of death anyway.
Luis Valencia Apr 23
As we weep
The flowers grow
From the pain
We rise
But when anger strikes us
We burn
We turn to ash
Once we are ash
We stay ash

We were told by our mothers
That the spirits
That the winds that blow against our skin
Will one day move through us
And take what little of us remains
The wind will soar and carry us
Across fields and streams and mountains

But the winds have died
There are no more tears
No fire burns
And the flowers don't grow

We've killed ourselves
We've killed ourselves
moyees Apr 9
Does it ever end,
this expanse of pain, and suffering.
I dont understand why,
why am I hear if I all I seemed to do is cry and waste away and crawl further into myself.
Please explain why I seem to see no end to this feeling i feel all the time.
Pain,
no matter if i am genuinely happy or sad, theres just this pain I feel.
Like I'm constantly in pain just for existing.
As if it will ever end as long as I have breathe in my lungs and speech on my tongue. It will just be pain.
I dont understand why.
Ray Dunn Apr 7
today, I existed—

my apologies.
I’m sad!!
Marina James Apr 2
Lostness creeps through my veins
Everyday stays the same
Each breath is confirmation of a world continued
Proof of existence unending

Walls are built to outsmart hurt
But what is inside stays inside
In a safe in your heart with a code only you know
Lies the secrets and denials of life, lived and survived

Here I go again
Why do I do this
The code remains unknown
A riddle to the discover
The answers to a world lost and forgotten

Anger burns my soul
Caged in the nightmare
Of dark mazes of the mind
And laughing, mocking faces in fences

Shadows clouds loneliness
Alone, so alone
This hell is built for one alone
Only space for spectators

Feelings are a different dialect
No way to explain or translate
The door slams shut hard
The darkness will hold on
To what is lost and never forgotten
Just hidden

No escape
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