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Lying on my bed
With a phone in my hand
And the notebooks that I held
Filled with words of color
But my papers bled
And the words that come out is slur,
A struggle inside
A rollercoaster ride
Of words that wants to come out
But only a few survived
My desire to lock my mouth grew,
Locking myself up in a cage
With bars mage of rage
And floors of a history book page
With the girl inside
And the need to keep and hide
The sadness in her eyes
With a hint of annoyance,
Not to others
But hers
"we will never be okay
And we continue to be lonely
Because the attention you seek
Will never look to your way"
Half past midnight
With inner demons consuming
What I thought invincible wall I built,
Silence is so loud; it's unbearable.

Half past midnight
A thought keeps popping out;
Please stay in that casket,
I don't need you now, not ever.

Half past midnight
It's dark, I can hear you;
I'll just stare at the moon
Hoping to get past this soon.

Half past midnight
I'll just write and write
'til the sound of pen on paper
puts me to sound sleep.
I was just about to breakdown.
I am a child, but never a kid.
Under the shadows, always been hid.
I wish to live as a kid...
But they've always forbid.

Wounds and scars
A life behind bars
Tears and plea are for weak,
Mouth always been stiched.

Hands, feet, and neck are chained,
To the Honors, expectations I've gained.
With all the light that shined,
They've gone completely blind.

They need me to be the best...
But never hope me the best...
Always asking for answers,
But always left unheard.

Why can't I be free? Like them...
Why am I forbid to feel as much joy?Similar to them...
I was never rebellious...
But never treated...as precious.
why does my siblings always treat me this way??
So quick to pick out each's flaws
we forgot about that what drew
our eyes and mouth to such awe
left as ghost only passing through

just listen to the silence
of these Hesychian halls
you once a enchanting siren
and my ears housed no walls
Lost Girl 13h
Little hands grab the box.
Rays of sunshine glisten in her eyes.
Bright smile and innocent laugh.
Her thoughts are pure and precious.
All of that is shattered when she sees the broken crayon.
Tears fall down her cheek.
The start of a darkening chapter.

I was the little girl.
Now, I am the crayon
.
Unwanted.
Untouched.
Never loved.
I didn't care what it cost.
To be right there in your arms.

Now I know the price I've paid,
Left alone on the bed we've made.  

'Cause you don't love the person right infront of you,
I'll starve myself to be kept in your view.

Complete my tithe,
Replete my sacrifice.

Because this prison is warm
I must suffice.
This poem stemmed from an early journal entry that I decided to rewrite as a poem, so this poem is very personal to me. I didn't battle with any eating disorders but I was a witness to many people that suffered from them. It's titled June becasue that's the month I had written the entry.
XX 19h
Felt like the weight of the world sat on my shoulders for four years running,
and when we said goodbye I could finally stand up straight,
but I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't get on my knees if you asked me to make myself small again.
November came back around all too fast this year, like I forgot that the leaves change in the fall.
You'll always be the first person to really break my heart -
I loved you then and I love you still.
What's New Year's Eve look like when you've already dropped the ball?
Amanda 22h
The phone rings loudly
That noise should make me feel loved
I just feel lonely
Sometimes I just feel like I have no one to talk to because I don't want to scare them away with my craziness or  I can't trust them or I am afraid of being judged/criticized/misunderstood. So now I just don't answer it very often. I am probably one of the hardest people in the world to get ahold of... also because I sleep a lot.
I wish I could go back in time,
maybe then I wouldnt be crying.

I remember the last day with you,
We watched horror movies in your room.

I often wonder why it is,
You chose him over me your own son.

I understand you need him mom,
But just remember the saying.

Blood is thicker than water.
On a scale of 1 to Lord of All,
how important is your
your opinion of what others create?

I see you, through these sigils,
pretending every breath you took
is a doctorate.

Did you know you dont have to choose between being the brush or the brush ******?
You could build boats,
hunt ghosts with broken radios,
climb mountains to commune with the dead,
stare at the stars and make
your own constellations,
or play ukulele alone with a head full of acid.

All I am saying is
there are far better plotlines
than playing sovereign king of the
swamp that swallows you
and believing it be noble.
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