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Kellin Sep 26
Adulthood will sink into my skin
it will decay my bones to sand
it will ease the memories from my head
it will make me feel dead
Brad post Sep 26
There used to be a fire,
that burned inside of me.
I never had to tend it,
it had always just burned free.

It roared so fiercely,
and burned so ******* bright.
It kept me moving forward,
and broke the darkness with its light.

Then something started changing,
and the light began to dim.
The flames began to lessen,
and they never grew again.

Every day that passed,
the fire was less and less.
And the darkness creeped in,
making my direction a guess.

Then one day it flickered,
guttered, and died.
The darkness consumed me,
and I grew cold inside.

Now I just stumble,
trying to relight my flame.
But I can’t see where I’m going,
all this black looks the same.

I just need a spark,
to rekindle my soul.
And if I can’t find it,
then I’ll never be whole.
A poem about the slow consumption of depression
isle Sep 24
ive grown used to sinking into walls
and changing my colour
i wither, i shrink
til i'm at the end of my wick
a fire trapped rolling under the feet of giants
once burning words careening from the sky like thunder
simmering to a breath
and i don't quite know where to look
so i don't
they cant see thoughts behind murmurs
and changed skin
an ode to not knowing how to take up space
William Troup Sep 25
Groaned, my mother did
   as my father wept in glee!
   A piping voice, with flailing hands;
   a struggle, I may always be?

Moaned, my parents did
   as my pasture swayed in seas!
   A fiend afoot, with wasted times;
   a failure, I may forever see?

Frowned, my brother did,
   as my journey cracked its stream!
   A chance away, with wishful smiles;
   a dreamer, I may really seem?

Smiled, my sister did,
   as my riches parked in streets!
   A sonorous voice, with waving hands;
   a struggle, I may always meet ...
Agnis Lynota Sep 18
I've come to realize
I've been lying to myself
All the stress
All of the worry
Is all a lie
Because I convinced myself
It was a priority
As if being afraid
Could help me be in control
Of something
In my life
But reactions
Will never cross out
What's already written
So why not
Just start being happy
With what I can't control
Rachel Rode Sep 18
warm wood floors
worn smooth from years of work boots and light-up sneakers
the sun shines through the kitchen window
if I squint I can almost see my younger self sitting at the counter
trying on her high school graduation cap for the first time
In this moment I feel both older and younger than I ever have before
I close the door to my childhood bedroom for the last time,
and the ache in my chest pulses
but I know it will fade
the pictures are gone from the walls
but the memories remain
the love remains
most of it will follow to our new home
but some will remain here a while longer,
warming the space and recalling the lives it once held
Rachel Rode Sep 18
we breathe warm July air into our lungs
the breeze passing gently past strawberry-stained lips
we chase fireflies through the woods,
hands outstretched, reaching, reaching
our laughter is golden-sweet
we love like dandelions in bloom,
fleeting and fading
we stain our sheets with the mud of summer rain
or the blood of skinned knees
we wake in the dark to whisper secrets to the moon
we are so young and yet we are growing
one day we will grow large enough to shed this childish skin
but until then we will jump and yell like the wild things we are
singing a song of freedom and youth
Ackerrman Sep 18
“You don’t know who I am,” Said the man.
I assure you sir,
“I no longer care.”
Had a confrontation with an older gentleman at the weekend, indicative of my point in life.
girl gonzo Sep 18
An artist too lazy to make any art
So what am I?
The sleepy commitment holding your hand in public places
An enormous gratitude lounging in between spaces with a stain on her shirt
Always seeking to be the next big thing

A stoic
Unable to process any other philosophy
that doesn't kiss me when I'm nervous
Lights turning on in the afternoon
And the warm glow of knowing people are inside
Ready to open up the door and invite you into the individual smells that occupy their reality

I am I-don't-remember-the-city-anymore girl
Sterile buildings and antiseptic coast
Are both memory and fiction
I am everything's-sort-of-familiar and yet exactly obscure
A contrarian careful to never admit that everything
Will make sense with enough persuasion
In the corners of my mind sits a woman
Smoothing out creases of my brain like the folds on bed sheets
Or the wrinkles in a shirt
And I allow her to because I love her
And I believe that what she does is affection
And maybe I'm right
Or maybe I'm wrong and I was never an artist
But something else entirely because that's so much easier
Nathalie Sep 15
I open up
this flame
within my soul
I explore the
magic that
this deep love
brings forth
It lights the
way; shares
and multiplies
There is no
greater beauty
than this blossoming
grace growing
in my heart.

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