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-Goat Sep 13
There is a hole in the deep
through which darkness does seep
far beyond what used to be sane
it now goes with no name

now hidden, long inside a bunker
behind barricades, alone he now hunker
his shields worn to the touch
laid out for everyone to judge

Worn, battered and bruised
the future's once again snoozed
yet still there is hope that remain
for this feeling, he mastered to contain
You may crumble by a world so hostile, yet still be strong so show you will be around for a while
yāsha Jul 3
i have tiny jars that are shelved
perfectly inside my brain
from category a to z,
sorted by themes,
and from one to a hundred
—a scale of how painful
life is in my repetitive experience.

i keep all my memories sealed
like a handful of fireflies shoved in a jar
that only live for three days;
i may forget every scenario with ease
but never the dying flicker—the feeling
that grow dim in each canister.

god, how fragile am i that it only takes
a trigger for each glass to combust tragically,
good thing i'm the only one
who knows how to pull it.
     i wonder which repressed emotions
     are going to choke me violently tonight.
Ana Apr 2021
she accepted people’s bad behavior,
because she thought,
they went through  difficult things.
yet, she invalidated her own feelings,
even if she knew what she went through.
Alex Kabat Dec 2020
i am asking for too much
extracting blades like sweet honey from a bee
falling headfirst into arms that cannot hold me
treat me like a ******* liability

remember how it felt
shattered too many mirrors
stepped out of my skin
naked as i have ever been

the woman
hasn’t forgiven me

or i haven’t begun to forgive myself; i am not clear which.
the most crucial peace in pieces
kodi Jan 2020
i'm sick
             of being
                             mentally ill
       but then
                       what would i write about?
malaprzeponka Feb 2019
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
No One Jan 2019
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 ugly sight to see
Mocking, taunting, all genders appalled by me
A small set of words are used to describe me
Fat, ugly, 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
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.

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
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