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MSunspoken Jan 10
"Actions speak louder than words", they'd say to me
But, assuming homicide is out of the question,
I like to remind myself,-
Charlie McMahon Jul 2019
What can I say
I'm trying to send a message
A few words to portray
Exactly what's going on in my head
Things really aren't clear
I feel a bit dead
I don't know why I'm here
I need to get up, and get ahead
Outpace them all
Like I know I can
Scale the "impossible" wall
An became a woman
I know I'm strong
I know I'm intelligent
I admit when I'm wrong
(can't find a rhyme but you get the hint)
I'm a critical thinker
I see through the lines
But my mind's beginning to splinter
I'm not actually fine
The world's driving me mad
And I'm feeling homicidal
Then  stop feeling bad
For being suicidal
I don't like it here enough
To put up with ****
Lights out like *****
Don't think I tried well I did
Four times in one year
Guess I really wanna get out of here
I spilled one last tear
And knew death was near
First time I cut a tad too deep
Second time I took a little too much Paracetamol
Next I tried to hang myself, failed and felt like a creep
Then I thought a lot about jumping off of walls
Finally I overdosed
I was home alone
No one knows
It hurt a lot
My life flashed before my eyes
I knew I was going to die
Somehow I woke up alive
And now I'm here writing dumb ****...
And thinking about number five
this is silly
Amanda Jun 2019
My broken heart froze that day last year
They warned me it would happen
You are the reason I'm sitting here now
Chasing thoughts as cheeks dampen

Know I should not blame you for the tears
We are equally in the wrong
Try though I may to distract myself
You are all my mind can focus on

When you left for rehab in Florida
Like shattered glass pain began multiplying
My world crumbled even more
When I discovered you were lying

Something deep inside involuntarily snapped
What was tightly wound dangles loose
On that swaying heartstring read one word: "goodbye"
Carved meticulously into my recycled noose

Hanging myself with self-inflicted emotion
It was more than just a suicide
Because the instant I killed myself
Our beautiful love also died
About breaking up with someone you still care for deeply and love and still want to be with.
Jeordie S Dahmer Apr 2019
Your body beneath me
A blade pressed to your chest
Do you trust me?
Sadistic thoughts swarm my brain
Like a nest of angry wasps
A thin line
Dripping crimson honey
Your breath becomes sharp
A dull ache in my skull
Demons speaking into my ear
The knife in my hand is so tempting
I carve another line
One after one and I still ain’t done
The steal comes down full force
Tearing past flesh and bone
I can’t help but to let out a little moan
Hands painted red
Shoving my fingers in the open wounds
Can I make someone so numb feel pain?
Watching the light fade from your dark eyes
I always wanted to be your end
I promise I’ll kiss it better
But now I have you
Nothing can take you from me
The cold metal to my neck
Slices past the cartilage
Feeling warmth drip into my lungs
My vision filled with dark clouds
I mutter and choke out my last words
I love you
Ugh I don't feel good. My brain is somewhere else.
Lucas Hilliard Apr 2019
I’ll go to Milwaukee.
With a friend, I’ll stay.
I’ll take their mother’s car key.
Not at noon, of course, but at the end of the day.
I’ll park behind the dumpster.
A skimpy outfit, I shall wear.
I’ll cake my face so my lips look plumper.
I’ll catch a trick, “Take me anywhere.”
He won’t know what’s in my black clutch.
A knife and duct tape. I’ll wear a pair of silk gloves.
I know what I’m doing! Don’t you dare judge!
I’ll probably pity him; he only wanted some artificial love.
I’ll put on a show.
Make it seem like I want him.
It’s just an act! I would never stoop that low.
If only he knew his night would end up grim.
We’ll race into the hotel room, both of us eager.
“Can you get me a glass of water, please?”
He’ll stumble into the kitchen. I bet he’s a drinker.
I’ll stand hidden by the door; away from what he sees.
When he walks past, I’ll pull out the knife.
He’ll never see it coming.
I’ll sever his spine. For now, he can have his life.
He doesn’t deserve any form of numbing.
To a chair, he’ll be taped.
“Why are you doing this? Who the **** are you?”
I’ll tell him I’m a demon, just human-shaped.
“I’m wondering why I’m doing this, too.”
I’ll tear open his gut.
He’ll try to scream, but the tape will cover it up.
I’ll slice his heart, lungs; I don’t care what!
When I deal that final swipe, his end will be abrupt.
No fingerprints in his car or in the room.
And I made sure to wear my friend’s wig.
It’s sad to think that this was his tomb.
But, seriously, this was quite the gig.
Lucas Hilliard Apr 2019
Saw another counselor today.
Heard her say my homicidal urges weren’t serious.
Tasted annoyance on the tip of my tongue.
Smelled the new white paint on the walls.
Felt nothing but hatred.
Lucas Hilliard Apr 2019
I want to plan a ******.

I want to hoard knives and duct tape underneath my bed, hidden from my family.

I want to **** a man.

I want to inhale the fumes of decomposition and feels tendons snap between my canines.

I can only hold out for so much longer.
Lucas Hilliard Apr 2019
A horror comfortably rests in my mind.
It relaxes in the heat of my skull and melts into the crevices of my brain matter.
It coats my every thought, transforming what was once innocent into something unrecognizable even by the most wretched.
My sense of fear has been replaced with a desire to
Take lives, souls, blood from the unworthy.
Nothing but the remnants of my morals has stopped me thus far.
The red passion only grows the more I attempt to suppress it.

The horror is glad to overtake my senses in times of stress.
The sights of torn, mangled bodies are forced upon my eyes.
Bloodshot sclerae, severed tracheae, disemboweled torsos.
The scent of rich rust is all I am capable of smelling now that I am beyond being saved.
I hear the screams of my imaginary victims, clear as day and night.

I wish I could be saved from this horror.
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