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pearl Jul 26
If there is a God,
i trust that He would have already killed me                                                             out of pity
      He would have put this suffering
  to an end by now

     That would be the mark of a forgiving God.
              
I’ve never been religious,
               but lately I pray every night.

Sometimes on my knees
until they’re bruised and red
against the carpeted floor
      as it digs into my skin,

sometimes curled into myself
   like a dying animal,
    my fingers clasped together
so tightly that they begin                                                          to­ turn white
and my nails start to cut                                        into my flesh.

I beg Him to either
save me
or
end me.

  So far, He hasn’t done either.
Dylan A Jul 12
I was tied to the train tracks.
For all the horrible things I didn’t do?

I had a small knife.
What’s the point?
It’s dull.

I could try,
but it’d be endless.

It started as a rumor, that morning.
By my last class, gym,
it was the fourth time they pushed me.

What’s the point of getting back up
if it’s dulled to happen again?

I’d let them,
especially him,
crush my skull until I died.

The funny thing is,
the rumor was true.

I did have a crush on him.
I was just a boy.
lisagrace Jul 10
My hands linger on the barrier tight,
Fingers twitching in the failing light.
Blood is drumming, hot and loud,
A whispered thought beneath the shroud. There’s a pressure blooming in my head,
Like every word I left unsaid.
It hums behind my aching eyes—
A silent song that never dies.
Half-lidded eyes, I am silent and watching
There waits the void -
                
         Gaping
                          
                    Calling
                                    ­  
                              Pulling

There's a gravity that pulls me near,
A silent whisper I half-hear
As the yawning void draws me in,
slow and thin,
I can't help but gaze,
its pull a curious haze.
It's promise I have not destroyed.
It sings in shadows, soft and low,
A voice that tells me where to go.

But still I hover, still I stall,
One heartbeat shy of letting fall.
I want to leap, to drown, to fly—
To find out what comes after why.

The wind shifts, and picks up my hair.
I blink and turn—no fanfare.
Just the concrete path, and the noise of life -
the cars, the birds, the sun burning bright.
I shift my weight. The void still calls.
It tugs at my feet, my arms, my soul.
It's hold trembles. The strings snap.
I step away as the chords retract.
The mouth closes. Now threadbare—
fraying, curling...but I don't care.

I am stalwart. I am serene.
No longer caught in what has been.
The path ahead is cracked and wide.
I don’t look back.
I walk.
I try.

Maybe this is why.
First post here.
I wrote this in a moment of tension—between fear and curiosity, between holding on and letting go.
I think I’m still somewhere in between. If you give this a read, thank you. If you do and something pulls within you.....I know.
ProfMoonCake May 13
There lives a stranger in my head,
She sees everything I see,
Hears everything I miss.
She has long hair, endless that flows into a river
She has small eyes that disappear at night
She preys on love like ants on a sugar cube
She grows stronger in hurt
Her hands are long, wrap me up in an instant
Suffocate me with hate I've forgotten
She waits patiently for prey to present themselves
Destroys only what she loves
The rest of the world watches me
As I stand helpless
Navya Apr 29
I got the answers right.
Eventually.
Just didn't breathe while doing them.

Told Dad I felt like drowning.
He told me I just needed to practice.
I do. That's why it hurts.

They always finish first.
Every time.
I pretend to check my work,
In reality, I didn't start.

Back home, I was meant to revise.
Instead I tapped my pencil into the wall.
Created a mark.
Decided to keep it. It felt true.

Got 92%.
Finally. Something to be proud about.
"You could've hit 95."
Dad smiled—he was 'proud.'
It was almost impossible to believe.
So it still stung.
Felt the familiar gnaw in my ribs.

He would probably love the boy in my class as a son.
I bet they'd enjoy studying.
Without the tears and shouting.
Without butchered expectations.

I needed help.
Didn't want to shatter his expectations again.
I almost cried,
But the room stayed the same.

I realized it wasn't ever about math.
Simon Bridges Apr 18
You stroke my hair
Whilst I smooth the flesh
                  That without muscle hangs

Outside the clouds
Turn into a landscape
Obscured by haze
                                     In that moment
I forget the fading time allotted to us
And the reality
Of both our consequences
Immortality Apr 18
And she fell,
into ice-cold water.
Her legs kicked,
gasping for air
that once suffocated her.

She didn't scream,
reached her hand out,
not for light, but to bid goodbye.

She looked around,
to realize the dark
she had walked into.

Fate laughed,
as she closed her eyes.
Oh, what an irony,
she couldn't swim.
what an irony!
Was it a day?
Or had the years collapsed in a fleeting decay?

The nights grew heavy, crushed my chest,
My eyes wept secrets I never confessed.

Tears turned bitter, cold, and dry,
Hate and regret took their place in my eyes.

"Mumma..."—I whispered, lost in the night,
She laughed it away, My hands reached out, but no one was there,
Just shadows and silence and empty air.

Was it the night? Or was it me?
Building walls too dark to see?

Trapped inside, no way to tell,
Was this the day I truly fell?
The days when you were at your lowest, no one you could reach out to. The days when you felt comfort in death perhaps! The lowest of low.
Maryann I Feb 22
The water rises, slow but sure,
it takes my breath, it grips my skin.
I reach for land, a saving shore,
but waves pull tight and drag me in.

My voice is small, a hollow sound,
it breaks like glass, it fades like mist.
No hands extend, no rope comes down,
the world moves on—I don’t exist.

I see the sky but can’t touch light,
I dream of wings but feel the chain.
And so I sink, and so I stay,
a body drowned beneath the rain.
9. Helplessness and Powerlessness
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