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Isaac Jul 2
Straighten my spine, add aplomb to every line
The poetry I write a capsule of the time
And times I wept and countless tears shed on the street
Running away, running back to me
Delicacy is hidden in my speech trying to not be abrasive or mean
I mean I love you so much the words get tangled in my throat
I gulp it down, too early to say
Too early of a play
To expose my feelings, to lay my brain
So scary to think you might not share
A plethora of rain need some Sonny and Cher
Your arms stretched out and my head your chest bares
I feel you breathe, I feel you underneath
I need you near
Kelsey Jun 29
Technology is a beating heart
A life that has become an integral part
Of me:

I am the internet,
The apps,
The text messages
That cause collapse

I am the Google searches,
The Amazon purchases,
The single letters
That create these verses

I am the statistic you search for
Of Depression in America.
I am the sad song you play,
When you realize life is an enigma.

Im there when you lay in bed
At 3 in the morning,
And ask Google why it's been years and you still feel like youre in mourning.

I'm the quiz that you take
To test the validity of your sadness.
And the other 5 you take
As you succumb to your own madness

I'm your Facebook friend,
Sharing mental health posts,
About women your age
Writing their suicide notes.

I'm your Instagram feed
You have a smile on your face
But people never read the caption:
"This is the last post I will make"

You can get all you want with just the click of my button
Please dont buy anything that contributes to you being forgotten

You can say anything you want
Within a text
As long as I turn off auto correct,
Because when you say "I've been doing great",
You mean "I'm going to slit my neck".

I'm the to-do list app you download
To feel like your life is together
But my boxes never get checked
Because tomorrow sounds a lot better

I'm the pictures in your phone
To remind you your not alone.
I'm the memo in your technology
Where you write your suicide apologies.

I'm the alarms you never touch
That alert you to start your day.
But when you never turn me on,
Youre just skipping the foreplay.

I'm the email notifications
Spewing the benefits of *******
Because you need something to distract you
From it's negative connotations

I'm the flashlight when you need me because your lamp won't be going on.
Its already 4 in the afternoon,
your bed is now where you belong.

I'm your two way connection
When your boyfriend calls to check on you
He can hear the sadness in your voice
But doesn't know what else to do

I'm the calendar that alerts you
You have an exam next week,
I hate being your YouTube search on the best suicide techniques.

I wish you would reply to the group chat,
They want to meet you at the mall.
Now they're bad mouthing you
Because you don't seem to care at all.

Please, just turn on some music.
I promise that you can choose it
I don't like the words you're typing,
"Death" isn't better in writing

Just stop what you're doing,
And let me bring up your history.
Remember before your dad died,
You were his greatest victory?

I'm the forums and the hotlines
and the encouraging words,
That people all over the world want to be heard.

You can use me as your outlet,
but I won't be your oppression.

It's so easy for technology
To manifest as your depression.
Your technology can tell alot about you and your thoughts and feelings. It can truly manifest as your depression.
Frozen cold as ice,
Her eyes still on intention.
Self meditation,
Melts dreams into fruition.
Calm, the breeze of higher self.
Amanda Apr 19
As I stare at blank sheets
To jot down my thoughts
Realize how alone I feel
Only friends are vacant lots

These restraints tighten around my words
Keeping in place
Long to leave their chamber
They're running out of space

I really want company
Singing solo to an empty room
The cage known as my conciousness
Lyrics of honest emotion attempt to bloom

Remembering yet unable to manifest
Moments sliding around mind
My suffering festers in seething sores
Until despair is finally defined
About having writers block when you really need to express something a certain way and you cant find the right words
Cynthia Jean Feb 9
Oh help me
to relinquish
all that I
cling to
that I might
all You created me
to be.

Cynthia Jean

February 8, 2020
H A Vitatoe Nov 2019
Connected are we
From the one we call father
Reflect into me
Mystic Ink Plus Sep 2019
I promise to be
A backbone of
Your evolving

You can rise
As high as
You like
Genre: Inspirational | Zen
Theme: Unrequited Love
Nathalie Jun 2019
Golden opportunities in our lives are the ones that usually come without warning.  They poke from behind the unexpected and greet us with surprises. When we are open to receiving these offerings by surrendering our thoughts about their arrival; embracing trust and letting go of trying to control or manipulate the outcomes, we move in a state of witnessing the miracles that are meant to manifest from this divine timing… the unfolding begins.

Amanda Mar 2019
This is not refusal of happiness
A desperate plea for attention
It is a manifest of emotion
Not some imaginary invention

There is a madness populating my head
Billions of shouting ugly voices
Every one an echo of my own
Spelling my lack of choices

Lately hopeless feelings have grown
A desolate cold orchard
Blossomed a place I belong
I'm welcome but also tortured

I have laid down my roots in quicksand
I'll be withered by afternoon
A pile of wilted petals
Unless I am picked by someone soon
Written 2/16/12
Madisen Kuhn Feb 2019
there is a modest
one-story home
with white stucco walls
and a red tiled roof
waiting for me somewhere
near a floridian beach.

the yard is flat and dry.
some days, i’ll lie there
on top of a patterned quilt
in a two-piece
hand over brow
reading a thick memoir
on loan from the library
that sits on the other side
of the brush, beyond
the wooden fence.

winter will just be a memory.
every week, my toenails
will sink into the sand
wearing a different shade of pink.
i will not fold away
my sundresses and shove them
under the bed.
they will only leave
their wooden hangers
to be worn and washed.

time simply records the falling
and growing and falling of things.
one of these days,
i will be the budding lily
pushing up dirt
to greet the other side with
all of the beauty
i am ready to be.

i have fallen enough.
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