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lilac Nov 2020
who is this?
who is she?
who are they?
i don't know this person,
i don't look like that do i?
my arms, my stomach,
my hair, my face, my thighs,
what is it all?
why don't i look okay for once?

it isn't fair,
not fair at all,
i'm fed up of trying to look pretty,
fed up of meeting standards,
my body is keeping my heart beating,
is capable of carrying and nursing a child,
my body is amazing and that'll never change,

even if my clothes are tight,
even if my face doesn't look like theirs,
even if i can't wear the same things,
even if my skin is darker than theirs,
even if i can't pull off the same hair cut they do,

i am me,
i am myself,
i am here to show what i am capable of,
and no-one, no matter how hard they try, will stop me,
i am beautiful,

we are all beautiful.

-lilac
<3
Phoenix Oct 2018
5 why do they look at me like that…

4… do I want to eat this week…

3… life is pointless and there’s no reason to live…I’m worthless…

1No…sorry I meant…

2…ohh what’s that points at something on someone

1 why is mental health so popular…

Why can’t it just go away
This is all the mental health problems I have and if you want to know 5 is my anxiety, 4 is my struggles with my body image, 3 is about my loneliness, 2 1/2 is about my dyslexia, 2 is about my ADHD
Blake Sep 2019
If you learn to live life with sadness,
You'll never die with true happiness
Empire May 2019
Let’s play a game
It hisses in my head
What will you believe today?

Are you depressed?
Or
Does life just really ****?
Flip a coin.

Do you need to change your meds?
Or
Is this what normal people feel like?
Flip a coin.

Are you still hurting?
Or
Are you just a drama queen?
Flip a coin.

Do you deserve a little binge?
Or
Is your stomach getting bigger?
Flip a coin.

Are you sane?
Or
Are you falling from reality?
Flip a coin.
Autumn Bruening May 2019
When i was young,
I would’ve have given my mother the world.
Every mothers day, i would paint
My very best picture,
And I would walk to my grandmother's garden
To pick the tallest Easter lilies
That had bloomed weeks before.
Her front yard boasted
the most beautiful flowers
That fill my memories.
But like the colorful bloom,
My mothers love disappeared with time.
And sloppy paintings and roughly cut stems
Would never be good enough for her.
Poem to my mother who fuels a chronic depression.
a vitamin
no duet
soggy chanty
she gleefully
abet her
set in
bloom with
her trigger
hole fillet
in juice
now feverishly
the vamp
played this
orchestral piece
of mind
there with
her white
chaparral fleece
a favor
in law
reaches its
nihilistic while
cows grain
these matters
that suppose
this arbitration
wasn't theirs
but this
trench would
hide the
horror of
waywardness with
their cultivation
in grazing
upon licorice
a note on arbitration
Dawn, disappointingly,
shines through my window
sheets are cold, but
my bed is warm
those are the only sensations
I fell, if only for an instant,
just enough to realise I'm still here
but not long enough to appreciate my life
then, they come
in force, one after the other
a non-stop battery
of cures
insultes
illogical and supportive thoughts
permanently fixed in their unsuportiveness
always negative, relentless
to the point of numbing
the bliss of feeling nothing
overwhelmed by the information given
to tired to process it all

Getting out from under there is hard
the monuments challenge that I,
after years of training, still find hard
and so, out I go
slowly, dragging
like a phone on constant low battery
my legs dance beneath me for balance
my mind in a haze
then, I face
someone I know
from my past or present
and I, out of fear, disappointment,
and cause that's all I've know
engage my auto-pilot
and just like that, it works
because it's believable
because it's as face value
because in our hectic life where we're raised to consider ourselves
and put ourselves at the highest of peaks
because every sacrifice has a price
because no one wants to cut deep enough
because everyone's scared to make the first step
because add the end of the day
people only really care about themselves
taking the quickest route
of minimalist of effort,
but the highest of gain
cause it's easy, it's safer
because being comfortable is so safe
cause that way, you save yourself
and not get contaminated
though misery loves company
it's the poet's muse after all
yet lending an ear
it the equivalent of a ****:
a warning is given, but
no one wants to stay around to smell it

So now, when night comes again,
after a day of fakenes
of routine, drilling though
just another day
where nothing changes and everything remains the same
I'm exhausted, drained
too much to process
too dishearted by these thoughts
to move, to feel, or love
with so much going on
that my mind jams
my back stiffens, shoulders tense
the cold sheets becomes welcoming suffering
unchanging, present, stable
the only consistency I've known
for so many years

And as I close my eyes,
they play their evil tune
all over again a-new
and I pray for them to go away
I shout, I scream, I cry, I beg
I fight with everything I have
but with reserves depleted,
it's not enough.

So I drift into a comfortable numbness
waiting, hoping, praying
that tomorrow
never comes.
Colm Jun 2017
Soft is the wind ere the trees
And rough is my voice running through each
As are flowers in the month of June, so beautiful
And yet cursed by the coming fall
As after which, above the earth, all else will fall
Until the clouds and morning dew have meld in, above the heath
Ungrown as I am in the mind of you
But it would not be so, if you would see me through
*smile without speech*
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