raewyn 2d
head tipped back
eyes wide
(you don't look like someone with nothing to hide)
blade-sharp breaths
like your hands on my skin
(is this where i say i don't care where you've been?)
you lie like it's easy and leave like it's hard
(but i don't want the truth and you don't want my heart)
say my name, then; we'll pretend it's enough
(sometimes i forget it's supposed to be love)
Amanda 3d
Thoughts are jumbled up
I am not sure what to say
I should not feel like this
Because you are far away

There are miles in between us
And neither of us is to blame
It's obvious you love her
By the way you speak her name

There is not much point in waiting
Wasting time hoping for romance
The lonely distance is too great
To try and grab a chance

Why am I still here
Still thinking about you?
She is all that's on your mind
I know I am not there too

My heart skips a beat
I lose track of time
The euphoria you make me feel
When you appear online

Do I cross your brain?
Does summer bring you back?
Is your head stuck around
The list of traits I lack?

And deep down I know
That you will never really see
How beautiful, and yet so sad it is
This love that will never be
This is about an old summer flame.. but distance drives people apart.
Kiss my bloodied lips before you go.
Remember darling, you reap what you sow.
I gave you that warning a few years ago.
So what's coming to you, you already know.
Now close your eyes and hold on tight.
I'll make it quick when I put out your light.
When you are gone, I might shed some tears.
Remembering back, we had some good years.
You chose a new ally, you made a mistake.
It won't take you long to realise he's fake.

Poetry by Kaydee
The bloodier the poem, the better the therapy.
Yes, she's still alive.
I held my hand for the first time today.
Didn’t know that the love I had for myself was so little to none.
I guess I hide myself from the inner part of me.
I don’t want my physical being turning into the demon in my head.
Life is about risks right?

Good luck baby girl.
Your gonna need it.

                              With love,
Roses are red
Today I dread.
Laying in my bed.
Listening to the sounds of the dead.
Seeing where everything led.
And what kills are the voices in my head.

                           With love,
Amanda May 13
I am not alive
I can hardly lift my head
I only exist
Does anyone else feel like a zombie sometimes?
KM Hanslik May 8
When you keep losing people at a constant rate, it starts to feel like
you can't breathe and you start to feel the pressure
of everything mounting in your throat.
Sometimes we are best by ourselves, you said, and sometimes
I thought that was true. But lately
I wonder how every man can ever stay apart from each other
and sit in our own silence, without wondering,
is someone dropping splinters on our floors?
I think that the night is full with whatever
we make it to be; I feel stuffed with
everything and nothing at the same time. We are miniscule,
in infancy, ruled by whims
and impulses; yet, you are the routine
I can't break, and other people systematically stitch
me together in the patterns
of their lives. How can we be at peace
and alive all at once? This striving is what drives
art, how can I write
about a world that is empty, devoid
of a struggle or a war? I cannot.  I can only hope
that these whispers bring forth ripe fruit, I can only watch as
my existential dissonance is turned into
a tragedy
an inspiration
an example;
because our species has never
let anything live without first giving it
a label, and I think
that's what keeps us together.
We are a balance of chaos
and calculation. But knowing this does nothing
to lessen the caving in of my lungs, and does nothing
to bring my body to rest
when my arms long to be around
someone, and my head
is too full to manage.
When I would visit Ohio, my grandma always said
certain things in Spanish, as to not flood my head.

I wish I understood that secret life she led
by interpreting her knowledge, I know to have been well read,

But now my striving hunger will never be quite fed,
for now those precious, foreign words are unforgivingly dead.

Oh, how I cry very often, at night while I’m in bed.
Regrets like these don’t go away, so I try to cope instead.

I’ll never forget her loving Spanish spunk (that memory’s never fled),
even though my nostalgic heart regretfully succumbs to dread.

Jolan Lade May 2
Took a dive, head first
From the thirst, I could drown at worst
I thought, hell either way Im cursed
Hit the gound, head first
Head burst
Mind free
As free as it could be
In souls I was immersed
My history was reversed
Now to the twenty-first
Still falling, still cursed
In the belive to be free
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