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When you were younger,
you were told about the pain of a broken heart
you were told about the mean people
you could find along your path
yet, you were not told about
the dark holes that
can find home
in the deepest part of you

You were not told that
one day you might wake up
feeling nothing but lost
lost in the outer space of your existence
where gravity doesn’t exist
and you are just floating around
looking for a path
you think will lead to the brightest star

The truth is, you keep floating around and around
you see millions of stars
but somehow
you can’t seem to reach them
no matter how further you stretch your arms,
you can’t get to touch them
and even when you are finally
so close to them
they turn into deep black holes that
with all their strength
pull you around them
only to eventually devour you

and this
over and over again
until you get used to it
until you get used to feeling this lost and consumed
until you forget how to feel full
Abigail 4d
My worry consumes me
My thoughts are scattered
Much like the trash in my messy room
My heart aches so terribly
I can feel the pain of it in my belly

The sharp pieces from my broken heart spill from my mouth
They cut the people I love wide open
They bleed out
Suddenly, I am sick of me

I wonder how I got this way
Was it the hand slipping under my shirt, unwelcomed?
Was it because of all the spoons with burnt backs?
Was it the visions of my mother’s swollen face?
I want to know what the fuck it was that made me so hideous

Alas, I don’t have the answers
And while the weight of the world is not on my shoulders
It is certainly on my mind
It is certainly in my heart
And I pray that one day I might rest
Their she was
On the edge of the cliff
Wind whipping through her hair.
The sound of waves crashing.
She's surrounded by such beauty
Yet thoughts consume her
She can't enjoy the things she used too.
She wants to know who she is .
She wants to find that missing piece.
She wants answers.
I hope
wake up
for everything
you have
it is
right now
you are
rebecca 6d
I don't understand
p e r s i s t e n t
I was fine two minutes ago
u n c o n t r o l a b l e
I know I'm okay
o v e r w h e l m i n g
e x c e s s i v e
I can't
i r r a t i o n a l
d r e a d
why did
d i s a b l i n g
I even say
p o u n d i n g   h e a r t
s w e a t
do that
t r e m b l i n g
why am I doing this
s h a k i n g
I can't
s m o t h e r i n g
do this
c h o k i n g
c h e s t   p a i n
d i s c o m f o r t
help me
n a u s e a
save me
d i z z y
I can't stop
u n s t e a d y
am I
l i g h t - h e a d e d
f a i n t
am I
c h i l l s
h o t   f l a s h
they all
n u m b n e s s
think that
t i n g l i n g
a freak
d e r e a l i z a t i o n
no one will
d e p e r s o n a l i z a t i o n
l o s i n g   c o n t r o l
love me
“ g o i n g   c r a z y ”
why does it feel like I'm
d y i n g
N o
n o
. . .
. .
Nobody chooses a bottle willingly. A pill or a loaded gun, in the end it's all the same.

We're waiting, still, hiding. In our holiest of places:

The kitchen and the office. A quiet sideways-slide into the last available stall in a casino washroom. The seat is still warm.

Teachers don't tell kids that drugs are bad. They told us that we were the evil ones for deep-throating a bottle of vodka every Friday.

They didn't know what we had to go home to.

Cancer sounded better than living past 20, and that's the thing that they'll never comprehend:

There's always a reason underneath overdose.

The only time a drug is bad is when you can't afford it, and you're sitting alone in a fetal position crying in need for a chemical bliss that you've caressed over and over; a blanket covering memories. Feelings. Emotions.

The only time a drug is bad is when you're too damn poor to grab anything better than a box of Benadryl and a dimebag of shake.

The only time a drug is bad is when you're anything but rich an' white and pretty, because then you're not addicted, you're having fun with the price of 1,000 a week at an all-inclusive rehab resort.

Drugs don't discriminate, but people sure as Hell do.

There's always a reason underneath overdose.

There's always a reason underneath.

There's always a reason.
rebecca 7d
My mom has unpredictable issues.
I grew up living with a volcano.
It took its toll on me and gave me blues.
She’d hit me then hug me and call me beau.

Conflicted with love and hate, I moved on
I discovered anxiety and fear,
I fell into a deep, dark, depression.
When I moved out, my feelings became queer

An angry, sad, happy, guilty potion
Flowed through my veins. I couldn’t think clearly.
I wished of drowning, dreamt of death’s coming.
Swallowing pills, I signed “sincerely.”

Now it's two years later I’m still fighting.
Now, I’m living instead of surviving.
An attempt to drown
One's inner demons,
Does nothing more
Than render them
With an ability to swim...
nadezhda Sep 13
hurting, breaking, destroying defiance.

i’m draining away in the midst of compliance.
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