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One
Whos there
Who knocks on this door
Is it me the one screaming?
Or am I this one laughing?
Is that angry person my reflection?
But who is now talking then?
In one body full of emotions
There is no room for me
Though we all love and hurt
There is no room for me
Come and go these dry thoughts
Unable to conceive what's inside
Let's make peace
Let's live together
Someday
Skylar Pratt Jan 10
I start my day to the early Sun
Shining, smiling, warm-hearted sun
Then the anxiety crawls through my skin
Clawing, calling, peel off dead skin
Depression calls just like an old friend
Crying, sighing, where are my friends
Uncertainty for future begins to set in
Worrying, watching, where to begin
All I need is a singular cut
Slicing, scarring, ruin my streak for what
Clean for two years don't want it to end
Denying, no crying, it will not end
Addiction calls, I turned him away
Leave me, feed me, you will go away
The abuse of a child is still hurting me
10 years, 20 years, God let it cease
Fighting of parents, I fall to my knees
Implore, explore, I need help please
Finally self-doubt is killing me
Hurt yourself, **** yourself, the words haunt me
Impending divorce blame lays on me
Guilty, hurting, no one else blames me
I'm not good enough, I'm not smart in school
Fear, hear, failing in school
My mirror reflection, an **** sight to see
Mocking, taunting, all genders appalled by me
A small set of words are used to describe me
Fat, ****, daily vocabulary
So I crawl into bed to see another day
Breathing, sleeping, with morning comes a new say
Man I was depressed as a teenager
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.
zero Jul 2018
I haven't been so sad recently,
which is rare. I had the bad five months last year-
to the point I nearly killed myself.
And now I'm okay, but then it makes me think;
I'm not acting how I should act.
I don't feel like me anymore.
I'm bored,
I don't cry so often,
I feel like I'm wearing new shoes
that are slightly too small, to the point they
rub but don't leave a mark.
I think it's because I got so used to
being let down, that my body automatically
drops me a few stories every couple of weeks.
My eighteenth birthday was bad.
I think I just gave up on birthdays
and to think they used to be my favourite.
Now, I spend my time doing what is asked of me;
go to classes, smile, do work, go home, do homework,
sleep and not dream.
It feels weird.
I don't feel like me;
I want to feel like I'm dying again,
like the world itself is crumbling beneath my feet,
that, if I smile or move a muscle,
my whole being would explode;
shattering thousands with reminders that I was here,
because now I feel empty.
I'd rather feel like death personified
than nothing at all.
My depression has been gone for months now- with one or two bad nights, but nothing major.
I feel unreal.
I don’t feel like me anymore.
I can’t describe the awful feeling I get when I realise I don’t feel anything other than memories.
Being alone has brought a new fear;
boredom- not suicide.

-Zero.xo
Gil Mar 2018
Coço a cabeça porque está suja.

Lavo a cabeça, mas não deixa de estar suja.

Por mais que coce e lave não deixa de estar suja.



É porque a sujidade vem de dentro e o cotão é difícil de limpar nos cantos do pensamento
Braxton Reid Aug 2017
When I was a kid,
And I still am in many senses,
I sat in my room

I stared into the dark and conjured up monsters
I was afraid of them, but they were welcome
If the could play nice

I read books while they watched and threatened me
I played guitar when they'd stop yelling
They would hop on my shoulders
And I'd feel their weight
So, I worked out to make my body stronger

These creatures would get bigger and stronger just like me
At one point they were so strong that I wanted to **** myself at 18
That thought had always lingered though

They dug me a hole and called it a grave
They said they were going to throw me in
And I was terrified by that
And I wanted that feeling to go away

I asked them if they wanted to go for a walk before that happened
Perplexed, they agreed
And we went along

I got to know them and why they wanted these horrible things
They were just as confused about themselves as I was about me

We stood there trying to make sense of us as a group
I realized that we were, in fact, a group
We always have been
We always will be

I'd forgotten that they were just as lonely as I was when I was in my room
I'd forgotten that they forced me to become stronger
I forgave them in that moment
A moment suspended in my reality
Dreams of Sepia Jun 2015
Broken flowers & ragged breaths
she spins the earth on a piece of string
legs sailing high on the swings

her toy dog, Bruno watches
closely by a worn copy
of a linen-bound Ulysses

her latest boyfriend told her
she was ' Loopy'
& now she doubts the

sweet voices in her head
talking in sacrilege
stirring up dread

'we all have our demons'
she had replied
' But not all of us give in'

he had said
& left her standing
by the gate

to sleep
& nevermore

— The End —