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Belen Hair Apr 5
Sometimes I feel like Prometheus
Strung across that rock
Punished for giving

A lifetime of consequence
Begins to mock

The difference is
I could free myself
Whenever I’d like
A similar story
Shown in a more tragic light

My insides are pecked at
By all the people I love
I could hold out my hand to stop them
But if I do they would sob

Maybe tomorrow I can do it
Maybe tomorrow my love will extend
To the one who harbors it all in the end

I have to stop soon
For if I don’t I’ll be grey
The life draining out of me
With only one left to blame
Anailen Apr 4
write letters adressing the closest people in your life
feel bad that you cant write them all letters
try to reassure them that it wasnt anyones fault
that it was bound to happen sooner or later
say sorry over and over again
tell them not to throw you a funeral
to donate your body
clean your room
and everything else you can
make sure there isnt any loose ends
give away your stuff
theyll need it more than you
hang out with them one last time
then
lock your door
lock everything and everyone out
you cry but you know you must do this
take the pills
every last one
no matter how much you gag, they all must go
turn off your light
turn off your phone
and go to bed
one
last
time
You are loved.
Slugish Apr 4
Sticks and stones break bones.

Words and feelings shatter my heart.

It’s like a poet with a whip like tongue.

You lash me with your words and I stagger back.

Begging for the ground to swallow me whole.

Words hurt.

Words are hidden behind sweet tones and kind voices.

But underneath they are *****, derogatory, and filthy.

Don’t call a woman a w—re just because you think it’s funny.

Don’t call a man a f-gg-t just because he has a different clothing style and doesn’t dress masculine.

Words cut deeper than sticks and stones could ever.

Words.     Hurt
Words will hurt. I’ve nearly lost two friends to suicide because they were bullied and called derogatory words and slurs. My friends have found professional help and are doing better.
Kaiden Apr 3
Sometimes i wonder:
Do bullies hurt too?
I hurt a person,
And immediately knew
That it feels worse than to be hurt,
Yet they do it anyway
With all of those mean words
They have to say.
One selfish act,
A comment or two,
But they never felt worse
Than hurting you.
I accidentally hurt my best friend yesterday. He had a really bad day, i didn't know about it, i and this one person made a comment about him in our discord server, not really knowing that it would hurt him. I apologized but he didn't respond yet. (also, if you can read this somehow, i'm really ******* sorry)
How can you possibly be so angry
At someone you love so dearly?
Or rather, how could your life get shattered
By someone you trusted completely?
Izan Almira Apr 3
I scratch my scars
peel them off.
Turn them into scraps.

They never stop bleeding
because I don’t want them to.
This poetry is made of pain,
a style nib dipped in blood.

Verses made of hatred.
of
   pain;
           of
   blood

Some people need a sunset
and a coffee
to find their words.

What I need
is to fill my body with my own aches
until
        there
                 is
and                nothing
      I                            left
        can
               dip
                      my
                            words
                                       in
                                     ­       it.
I am experimenting with shape, and it is really fun.
Beneath the weight of starless nights,
He carved his path through fractured light
A scholar' s heart, though hunger gnawed,
In lecture halls, his dreams he thawed.

No coin to claim a bed's embrace,  
Yet courage etched his weary face.  
Cold floors, stale bread, and borrowed showers,
But hope persisted through the hours.

“Define your goal,”his voice now rings,  
“Let every step to purpose cling.”
Through storms of doubt, he held the flame,
And grit became his middle name.

No grant nor state would stake his claim,
Yet social media fanned his aim.
Strangers became his steadfast kin,
Their faith a balm for wounds within.

Now standing tall, degree in hand,  
He maps the way for others’ land.
“Your trials are seeds” he softly shares,  
“For blossoms thrive through unkind airs.”  

Resilience wrote his story’s creed
Not born of luck, but planted seed.
A testament to hearts that fight,  
And turn the darkest voids to light.
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