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Everybody
Is broken
At least a little bit
Since when did brokenness land on a measurement of more, or less?
Like, beaten is better than broken,
It's better to be battered than shattered

But last I checked broken was a loss of functionality,
If you can't do the same things you used to without crying,
You're just as broken as the rest of us,
If you just don't smile as often as you used to,
You're just as broken as the rest of us,
If you can't even hold a pencil without your hand shaking,
I'm sorry, you're broken, just like the rest of us.

What if I told you that in order to be truly broken you have to accept it,
What if I told you that in order to accept brokenness you inherently accept that you were ever whole in the first place and you, were made of pieces.
Two halves came together to make you,
And no self inflicted bashing, slashing or thrashing will bring you alive again because you were never dead
You have so many parts that have lost segments of code
You're not broken, you've just altered your directive
Because brokenness, assumes that you have a function,
And
If you can't perform a function anymore,
It's okay to find a new one.
You're not broken,
You're just weathered.
Alex Hoffman Apr 2015
Sometimes when you go to bed, you know just the way you’re going to wake up.

It’s best when you’re excited, and it’s difficult to fall asleep.

But what’s more difficult, and most difficult of all

Is when it’s difficult because you’re afraid. 

You don’t want to get into bed

You don’t want to admit defeat.

Crawl under the bedspread and sheets

And know, 

Nothings been fixed

or saved.



it never ends

sometimes it bends,

but never breaches


It’s tattoo’d on 
your pitiful soul. 



So only you can see,

Forever, 

Who you really are



laying awake,

disgusted.
Xan Abyss Apr 2015
I promise myself
you'll break
if I keep pushing hard enough.

You are an angel of liberation
How could you ever love **** so hateful?
It must be a lie, it must be fake
But I can make it true if I break you

Heavenly creature, let this creature come to you
Smother you and shovel all his wretched love in you
The way a golden goddess glows, mortals always follow
And only through destruction could she love a fiend so hollow

At your weakest, I strike
A predator in love
I convince myself you'll feel the same
If I damage you enough

I will teach you to love me
So that you can teach me why
What a Demon's meaning is
In an Angel's Eyes
A metaphorical self portrait of the obsessive, destructive, vile lunatic I am.
Samuel Alexander Apr 2015
A fool is he that shares his bed with the fear in his head,
My choices weigh my down, like cement shoes they pull me under the ever rising tide of self-loathing that constantly threatens to drown me.
Why do I feel such hatred for those eyes in the mirror, I can only stare for so long lest the urge to put my head through the reflective pane become too much.
It is a fire.
It burns within me, this anger, this disgust.
The shadows sing quietly so as no one else can hear.
Whisper abuse, taunting,
I am weak, hopeless and predictable,
As always, I rise to the bait.
Shackled, bound, as much a prisoner as any convict rotting behind bars,
I waste away within my mind.
I'll lash out at you!
I will...
Can't stop till I've had my fill,
I starve for blood and my own will do,
I hate that I want to hate you,
I hate that I fall short of the mark,
I hate and I hate and I hate,
Until I'm completely lost in the dark...

I'll **** your demons,
Knowing you can't **** mine,
And when asked if I'm okay,
I'll respond with "I'm fine",
I'm not your burden,
Though I may be your friend,
Put the pressure on and I'll break before I bend.
Tonight the moon stalks my steps,
it watches me with baleful stare
daring me to break my pact.

I know it wants a sacrifice
a body laid out on ice.
But I dare to return your stare.

These iron bars cast lines.
Lines I cannot cross.
Crimes enshrined in moonlight.

You stalk my mind, my soul, my dreams.
You keen to me, to be seen.
You beg more bad to be done, you stalk me when there's none.

My life, this pantomime
© JLB
31/03/2015
03:17 BST
Always Ally Mar 2015
It is me
At fault
For having high hopes
For having great expectations
It is me
Whom I'm mad at
Because I allowed myself
Because I believed
It is me
Always me
Always my fault
Always wrong
Am I right?
Hannah Mar 2015
You start small, then cut deeper over time. Once you start you won't
ever want to stop.

2. You grow a tolerance towards the pain, and after a while, it won't hurt anymore.

3. Finding sharp blades becomes a new found hobby.

4. Hiding your cuts and scars becomes an everyday task, and it only gets harder.

5. You find yourself gravitating to the need for negativity.

6. Sadness literally consumes your life, you'll be drowning in your own apathy.

7. Before you shower, you think to yourself, "just a few little cuts on my arm, no one will notice," then
next thing you know one cut becomes two, then two becomes 7, and now there's blood dripping onto the cold
tile of your bathroom floor again, and you can barely see the color of your own skin.

8. You get paranoid, thinking everyone has seen your cuts, and next thing you know, you're wearing
sweaters in the summer, never showing your skin.

9. Once the scars fade, your arm will be clean. It'll be a fresh canvas to paint your twisted idea of
beautiful art.

10. And when you're finally clean from all things bad, you'll have to face the fear of relapse, and when you finally
do start again, your disappointment causes the whole cycle to begin again, watching yourself fade back into
who you used to be; the person you never wanted to see again. So please, don't ever start hurting yourself.
This may be triggering, and please please don't ever start hurting yourself.
peurdelavie Feb 2015
you,
are a glazed lolly
a crystallised sugar coating
with jagged edges
and a sickly sweet inside that i could
never quite reach,
constantly and consistently cutting
my hollowed cheeks on your
razor blade edges
and ironically,
the blood building in my mouth
has more volume than the metallic liquid
filling your veins
and surprisingly,
i have learnt to more loathe you
than love you anymore.
i walked past a person that well and truly destroyed me for a small period of time yesterday. i didn't flinch and i am so proud of myself.
E Lynch Feb 2015
'Look at me'*
She spat at the mirror.
'What's wrong with you?'
'Everything is wrong.'
She stares at herself and wrinkles her nose in disgust.
'My hair is limp, my eyes look dead, I'm gaining wrinkles and I'm getting fatter.'
She sighed and frowned hard at herself.
'You're very ******* yourself don't you think? You have positive qualities inside and out.'
She stared into her own eyes with a venomous glare.
'No. I don't. I'm unpredictable and unpleasant and...'
'And...?'*
Her eyes welled up.
'Different.'
'You have a mental illness... You cannot help that.'
Her face turned from the mirror wanting to smash the image of her face into a million pieces.
'At least if I were beautiful on the outside it'd be different to how I feel inside.'
'Well how do you feel inside?'
'Misunderstood, abnormal, confused, different and ugly, very very ugly. I wish it were as easy to fix a personality disorder as it is to fix a blemish.'
She avoids her reflection as she leaves the bathroom and continues on with her day.
flustered Feb 2015
You’ve spent
so much time smashing
     your own reflection
all there’s left to walk
     on is broken glass.
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