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Ferrin McGinness Jun 2014
downtown is
a much newer scene than even
i thought it’d be - i was
prepared to be
a novice. i was prepared to be
out of place. and this was
nothing, i could handle these
old odd eyes, i just
wasn’t ready to feel so
dropped in.

but i’d drawn a diagram
of this situation,
a different specific

(*******.
i can’t hear myself think)

why am i surprised to feel
so dropped in
when i’ve drawn it?
drawn upon it?

why am i surprised
that a new brand new
situation feels
just the same as the new situations
of before, when i’ve
had so many
that i can picture the the sensation
of my brain?

i’ve made a series of green lines
on a yellow, lined piece
of paper.

i’ve meant to take it
to my shrink for months.
once,
i had it in my purse and
my guts, when i entered,
decided to shrink.

i said
i was fine, and the same,
and i started to drop
the pills that stole my sleep
onto the streets.

it’s helped,
and i’m surprised. and my brain
feels more awake than
any other time
in the past
three
years…
so.

to which part of town
do i go to

from here?
Pyrrha Jul 14
Mental and emotional wounds are invisible, but a wound is still felt by those they inflict
Just like a tiny cut, you still feel the pain even if you can't see it
Just like the cancer beneath your flesh and in your brain, it still eats away at you

These are wounds that don't heal or go away if you apply pressure or put a bandaid over
There is no stitch that can put your broken heart and wounded mind back together
You walk with this pain
Feel it in every step and passing look

The goosebumps on your arms
The trembling of your hands
The darkness behind your eyes
The apathy in your voice
You can't see the wound, but sometimes you can see the symtoms

You can't feel the pain another feels
You can't see it but that doesn't mean it isn't there
You can't see a cough or a virus as it courses its way through your body
But that doesn't mean they aren't real

We carry these invisible scars with us
And they never truly go away or fade
Yash Feb 23
One full pill.
Prescribed from,
the white hell.

Antidepressant from the back store,
elevate life to the top floor.
Forced prescription, out of stock.

Oxytocin pumped, hidden cortisol.
Might as well walk the red carpet,
in celebration of Parasite.

As the clock struck,
the midnight hour.
Take the happy little pill.

**** ****, don't swallow.
Heavy eyes, don't fall over.
Lies, deceit, promises hollow.

Been 10 years,
time to catch up.
Rewind the clock.

Like a jar of fireflies,
shut it before any escape.
Rogue eyelids,

on a mission to shut.
Weak resolve, strong dose.
Drifted to dreamland.

Summer sun in seasonal switch up.
Sun rays like holy water,
hiss like a vain vampire.

Shops in an anarchy riot,
open the door to the sockets.
Oh, blind justice lady, I am blind too.

Shuffle Shuffle, like the undead.
Dragged the dead body to downtown.
It's a miracle, failed to faint.

Crude world, crude demands.
Have some respect for the dead.
By lord´s grace, limped home safe.

Met the coated monster today again.
Struggled to even stay still.
Advised to adapt, showed nothing but apathy.

A parasitic patient, eat away.
A death drain, drip away.
A strained stranger on a stretcher, carry away.

Tiny changes in hopes of conformity.
Circular cycle starts once again.
Half a pill today.
Connor Oct 2019
I don't understand how someone so strong
Could think they are so weak
When they deal with way more bull
Than anyone should ever deal with.

I don't understand how someone that handsome
Could think they are that much of an abomination
When they have hated themselves way more
Than anyone should be hated, particularly him.

I don't understand how someone so amazing
Ended up so strong
So self-loathing
So anxious
So depressed
So misplaced
So disadvantaged.
For a person who does not deserve the things they are going through right now.
Casey Sep 2019
that's what she told me.

But without it, who I am?
I don't think I would recognize myself.
essentially another form of "get over it".
Alex Smith Apr 2019
Like an albatross
I criss then cross
Lines of red ink on me
And what's the cost?
I keep fighting,
But lost
And cut my right ear off
Like Evander Holyfield
Or Van Gogh,
An artist,
Now trust.
And me the curse
Who only gets worse
The more you get to know him.
Everything I do
Is a ******* sin.
And life is a pool
I can't jump in-
I can't swim
And then I sink
And think
Of those who can't swim too
In my ocean of negativity
And dying virtues.
These are my cues
To leave out
And choose
The ones who know what
I'm about
Before I lose
My sanity to clout
And pick a fool
Like me.
A maniac and insomniac
And freak show
To be.
A R Fitz-Gerald Jan 2019
I stand in a puddle of water
Liquid pooled around my ankles
Dripping from my eyes so slow I didn’t notice them at first
But when they become apparent, foreign fingers brushed them away
And I’d disregard the wetness to pull back the hands

Who do these hands belong to?

The puddle becomes a pool
I stand in the shallow end and wiggle my toes
My fingers have grown pruney from where my fingers dip in the water
Blisters have settled on my soles and children splash at my face
Droplets trail to my collarbone and I blink away water or tears and wonder
Ears listening to unrecognizable laughter

Whose children are these?

The water sits level at my mouth
I should feel weightless but my clothes drag me down
The pool has become a lake and I stand in it shivering
Perched on my toes there is a precarious balance for air
The tears don’t stop and keeps the water rising
My sobs echo across the surface
Murky figures wave at me from the shore and smile like they know me

Who am I?

They say a river never forgets
That it knows its way back to the ocean
But my river swirls around my head and drips from my ears
From my eyes
The lake forms a lock of memories that can be touched
But never held

A lake is where memories go to be forgotten

So I drown in a Lethe that pours from my eyes, from my mind
And I sink to forget and be forgotten
Bit personal, won't lie

Permission to use with credit
mer Jan 2019
"i'm fine,"
said those who hide their faces from their friends
those who force their laughter and fake their smiles
dull eyes

"i don't care,"
said the ones who were mocked endlessly
teased, ridiculed, excluded, demeaned
the taste of tears

"i'm used to it,"
said the ones who can't sleep at night from anxiety
their hearts race in constant fear of the unknown
numb fingertips

"i can handle it,"
said those who stare at their reflection for hours
those who can't stop thinking they're not good enough
distorted faces

"i'm sorry"
said the ones who scratch themselves 'till they bleed
their bitten nails red and painful
dried blood
Débijonne Oct 2018
but when i said
‘living on the edge,’
this was never
what i meant.

what i meant was real party all night
without parents’ permission;
not a pity party at night
with my self-destructing notions.

what i meant was real rollercoasters,
or go on life adventures;
not roller coasters
of all my life’s emotions.

what i meant was swim in the ocean,
or face my darkest fear.
not an ocean of my
darkest fears face me.

but i when i said
put ‘happy’ and ‘die’ together,
i meant to actually ‘die happy’
not to be ‘happy dying.’
wrote this piece for National Mental Health Week.
sushii Aug 2018
It pushes everyone away.
It ruins all my relationships.

I died at the hands of my thoughts today.

He tells me that he loves me,
He tells me that it’s okay,
But they won’t let me believe it.

is love real?
is happiness real?
is anything real?
because at this rate, it might all just be fake.


in fact,

that’d be better, because then i wouldn’t have to feel this pain.
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