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I want to be able to live,
to breathe and to love.
How can I do this when I can't even fix myself?
I've done everything...
Smoke fills my lungs and boys keep me warm,
but I still can't fill this empty void.
I want to be whole.

I want to be whole,
so that I can live life instead of surviving.
I've done everything...
I'm at rock bottom and no one
or nothing can seem to pull me up.
How do I get out of this?
How do I stop being pathetic and lonely?
Do I need God?
Do I need to chop off my hair and leave?
Do I need to ink my skin so I won't empty?
What do I need to do?
I'm out of options.
I don't want to die,
but at this point it seems like the only relevant choice.
But...the thing is that I don't want to die.
I want to live.
I want to breathe,
and I want to love.
Amanda 6d
Took a second look at our relationship today
Wrapped arms around the present moment
Why did you stay if you yearned to go?
This morning conveyed the hint.

Time after time the plan defers off-track
When everything is determined to go wrong
I'll be there regardless of how low our blows get
To take us where hearts belong.

Each time we face a new bump in the road
I'll be there to cheer on while you fix the tire
Promise my company to you
Even if not what you desire.
I try to stick to my promises even when it gets tough and things change. I still try my hardest not to let loved ones down.
Denise Uy Sep 9
I'm not great like the ancient Greeks.
My door is tattered, unoiled, and it creaks.
The glass coffee table now in pieces,
mirroring thousands of broken perspectives.
The clothes on the floor, reflecting the messy
internal view of my life.

But I can fix it, can't I?
I could oil the hinges of my door,
brand new like it was before.
I could buy a stronger table,
no longer dysfunctional
and unable.
As for my clothes, I'll just fold them back.
It's really not a daunting task.
Some parts are easy, some are pretty tricky
and repair takes time but go on
and fix your life.
Note to self: Start changing your life.
Jamilla Sep 4
Fix
I was busy fixing other's life
But who fix me?
I don't know how much I can take
I fear eventually I'll break
Trying to hold the broken pieces of your heart and soul
But it's all so heavy
This weight I have to carry

What if my hands give up and let you go?
I don't want to let you go..
You need to try too
I can't fix you by myself even though I really want to
Happiness is a choice and I can't make that decision for you
Please just help me fix you
Promise me you'll try
I love you more then anything
Allesha Eman Sep 3
I’ll surrender my thoughts to you
They didn’t mean much anyway
But I know you’ll find a way to break them
And find what they really have to say

I’ll surrender my doubts to you
They still hold some pieces of my heart
And I know that you will take a few
And give it to the world

I’ll surrender my heart for you
For it’s already damaged enough
But I know that you will fix it
It’s what you’d do for love
Amanda Aug 31
I'm falling, feeling, spinning,
Just out of arm's reach,
The sharp abyss seems to muffle
My frightened dismal screech.

Don't jump down for me,
I am not worthy to save,
For what else is as shallow
As my predestined grave?

Don't present me with a chance,
It is almost too late,
Please leave me with my thoughts,
I can handle fate.

Don't even try to fix me,
I am not worth your time,
The pit I am descending is
A long way back up to climb.
I wish everyone would stay away so they dont get hurt
elinor Jul 22
To the two boys who think I owe them something.
My heart doesn't belong to either of you,
and your spindly fingers clenching it
don't look enough like ribbon
to fool me into thinking that
my love is a gift to you.
To the two of you,
so willing to give me
your monthly allowances of text messages
yet not your loyalty.
For thinking that an "honest" apology
fixes me having to question why
just me was never good enough
for either of you.
You were both greedy,
you always wanted more.
Now run free and fill your stomach with all the flavours that will burn your taste buds and scorch your tongue.
To both of you for being willing enough to open my box with a key that I never gave you,
rifle through my thoughts and feelings,
and not even open your ears to them,
leaving the lid off
and the contents strewn across your floor.
For offering to help me pick them back up again,
but only because my "small, little arms" are not strong enough to carry my own weight that I've carried for
fifteen years on my own.
Here's to both of you for putting me down about being small.
That is NOT my fault.
I have a mighty big cathedral for a heart and a generous brain
and that's all within 5"2.
It doesn't make you any bigger than me
(metaphorically).
Your few feet advantage doesn't give you
the power above me,
even if you can see the roots of my hair in more detail
than you would ever care to observe
the fault lines of my cracked smile.
Boys are being taught that
to love me
is to fix me,
that I am some kind of messy enigma,
a project, a goal.
I'm just a girl with a family, a girl with a head, with a spiders web of veins and a lifetime of lessons that I'm opening my arms and my heart to.
You mistake yourself for a lesson,
when I'm fully qualified to teach myself.

You diagnose yourselves
as "depressed".
Mental illness is not an accessory,
nor a quirk to make you seem more vulnerable to me.
Don't brandish it in the air,
it is not a weapon against me.
It doesn't make you adorable,
or some kind of cuddly bear boy.
Everything that's
"killing you"
is just as toxic to me.
You set my skin into blue flames
because I won't give myself to you.
No,
no,
no.
I'm tangled in my rejection,
and it thickens.
I can't be with you out of pity.
My guilt, raging deep within my bowels,
marching violently through my organs,
exploding into a supernova of
thinking that love and guilt are almost the same thing.
"I'll do anything",
I don't want anything from you.
"I'll write you a poem because I know how much you love that."
I also love being respected but neither of you ever gave me that.
My craft is not a tool of trickery,
and your words not a trance.
"I'm not like him".
But you still act like my skin is a carpet to your home,
and you walk across it with muddy boots.

You think you're a blanket to keep me warm,
but you ended up suffocating me.
To the boys who think I owe you them something,
go home.
all my poems have been long lately,
but I have a lot to say,
so I'm not sorry.
Lyn-Purcell Jul 18
Fix
There are so many things I do want to fix
Which is why I am rather anxious
to be and not be seen
I question if I am
ready, and to
be honest
I

really
don't know
I want to fix and show
the best of me. Not the perfect
me, but a human me. So much I want
to fix about me. So much I have to fix about me.
Anxiety and insecurities on the rise for some reason now.
Lyn
Dog Years Jul 16
One piece after the other
I'll break myself apart
and fill your empty spaces
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