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To be *****
Is to become so numb
You have to be triggered to feel
Anything at all.
The absence of pain
Is a pain in and of itself.
Alexis 1d
Out of all 150 poems of mine
none are about depression
although I dedicate my poetry to my flaws.

and maybe I could write one,
but I have no depression poems
only poems about wanting to die.

so maybe I am not depressed,
but yes,
I do not
want to exist anymore.
that at least,
I am sure of.
im definitely deleting this later ahaha
Alexis 1d
if you have ever had a panic attack,
the gasping
racing heart
tingling limbs
and crashing mind,
then surely
you know what it is to die.
pretty ****, I know.
I’m the devil on your shoulder,
The voice inside your head,
You don’t deserve to be happy,
You're better off dead.
No one will miss you when you go,
You're just a burden you know,
You're worthless and pathetic,
You’re so fat and **** it’s disgusting.
Why don’t you just **** yourself,
‘cause your life isn’t worth living.

You'll never get rid of me,
‘cause I'm everywhere you see,
I'll even haunt you in your sleep.
I'm always gonna be there,
Lurking in the shadows,
I just want to be your friend.

You need me,
I control you,
You have no on but me,
Just do what I say and I promise I'll keep you safe,
What have you got to lose?
You have nothing,
Haha you’re just a waste of space!
Why don’t you just cut yourself,
Go on! Pick up that blade...

He's the devil on my shoulder,
The voice inside my head,
He tells me horrible things,
And says I'm better off dead,
He whispers in my ear,
And follows me everywhere,
Feeding me with empty promises,
He's says he can keep me safe,
He thinks he’s in control
But not anymore,
Because I’m stronger than him,
I won’t let him win.
e 5d
I’ve been trying to endure every pain and judgement
Fighting the demons that quietly whisper “You can’t”
I became fragile thinking that every day is like a trap
I got tired of replaying the things I never could grasp
Because I knew that looking for an outlet is tough
Tougher when you feel like you are not enough

But out of nowhere, people became my glimpse of hope
And soon, I realized it wasn’t really a tough road
I trusted the light and it gave birth to the flames
I became better and stronger that I broke the chains
These chains that held me down and created a barrier
But now, I am standing up for I am a warrior
I was asked to create a holiday,
What about a pyjama day?
We would not get dressed at all,
Stay in bed, hide and stall,
Sit around in flannelette,
Stay in PJ's, don't get dressed,
In fact, don't wash or cook,
Do mental slumming with ****** books!
Feedback welcome.
Betty 6d
My sly and stalking beast

Which jumps and catches unawares

Grey light from within

A candle dimmed

Hidden from the world

Exhausted heart

Of half remembered dawns

******* slowly

On the fog

That is myself

I cannot feel

Until I cut

And bleed myself  

A path of living words

To follow to the light
Poetry Helps
I awoke
and I was there someplace
in some bed
being attended to
by some male nurse
who had brought breakfast
on a tray

it had been a drugged sleep
and I recalled vague images
of the night before
some sort of descent
to a darker hell
and police officers came
and a struggle
and an ambulance
and medication
and off to some hospital
to be soothed
to a deep sleep

Where am I?
I asked the nurse

he said the name
of the place
some psychiatric hospital
and left the room

later I wandered the ward
and adjoining corridor
and spoke to none
and none spoke to me
except some quack
with letters after his name

later I tried to top myself
not wanting to play the game
but others came
and cut me down
and transferred me
to the locked ward
behind double doors
with other broken minds
and green linoleum
on cold floors.
i stitch myself back together

with strands plucked from conscience

glistening points drawn out into gossamer

you come to me in comets

bringing the dawn to an astronomer

scried in seams of aether
Pulse Oct 4
My mother was dead before I came into the world,

I know not what killed her, only that something did.

Standing in her place was something that tore through words and the mind’s fragile shields,

Brought me down to levels I was sure could not get any lower and then continued to do so.

But I only figured it out, truly figured it out, when she didn’t stop him, when she just watched.

You see, what hurt my mother the most, despite all she screamed and yelled,

Despite her talent for reducing me to a sobbing mess of myself,

A mess that couldn’t be pieced back together again,

He loved me more.

Even when I didn’t want him to, he loved me more.

My mother was not the most beautiful thing in the world, she was only the loudest.

And not even the loudest thing can hold your attention for long.

To him, I was beautiful for my silence.

And to her, I was a knife to the throat.
saw a prompt for 'mother's injury' and this is what happened
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