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Heather Mar 17
I used to think I would never fall in love
But after him all I do is fall in love
Over and over
But I never let anyone feel secure enough to love me back.

I fall in love again and again and again
In silent torture
I am so sick that I feel
I am so sick that I hear
I am so sick that I smell
Sick of the patented experience

I am so insane I can read books
I am so insane I can converse
I am so insane I can see
Insane because of pseudoscience

I am mentally ill because of what I hear
I am mentally ill because of what I write
I am mentally ill because of what I see
Mentally ill because of segregation & isolation

I am mad because of audio software
I am mad because of video software
I am mad because of editing software
Mad because of channels & mixers in a studio

We are sane because of witnesses
We are sane because of kindness
We are sane because of love
Sane because of strangers
riri Feb 2
daddy didn't love her did he
mommy didn't love her either did she
she was used to it though

seasons change and time went by
she realized she wasn't used to it
she realized her soul was rotting away

nobody likes to be caught in a storm
nobody wants to drown in the ocean
so they always left her before she ****** them in

a broken little girl wasn't she
a broken girl who would never be able to feel love
since everyone who realized she was broken left
they always leave
riri Feb 2
i was told i overwhelmed you
i overshared my problems
the art of self sabotage is quite interesting isn't it

i was too much for you to handle
guess i wasn't good enough
this pathetic cycle of thinking returned once again

i shouldn't let a silly boy determine my worth
my confidence wavers now though
now i question everything, all because you left

i now spend every night
picking at my every flaw
and hating myself for it, wishing i could change
i'm always too much to handle aren't i, and now i know you're never coming back
angel Nov 2020
cheap liquor, good drugs.
burns through her cash.

blue eyes turn grey,
deep seas now ash.

stranded on shore;
nowhere to swim.

beautifully drained:
soft, rotting skin.

laying on the sand,
of an hourglass.

watching, waiting,
for day to pass.

her insides crumble.
her unbearable pain.

her lack of reason,
to ever change.

and if she had the chance,
she'd do it all again.
Haley Protega Sep 2020
I fashioned myself a dress of black lace;
Dark and elegant, epitome of grace;
Soft on my skin, caress like a lover's,
My comfort, my design, a haven of covers.

They called it macabre - filled them with unease;
Dangerous, they said, termed it a disease.
And yes, I'm unwell, but darkness is my veil -
A reprieve from hell, solace without fail.
I am the tailor, the sculptor of shadows,
The reaper of melancholy my art sows.
And yes, it is odd, fragile, morose -
The marble thorns of an obsidian rose.

The judging whispers that follow in my wake,
Can't comprehend I do this for my sake:
The sharp edges they call jarring and cold -
They are my palace, impenetrable stronghold.

Where others see emptiness, I notice lace,
The gossamer threads of a misty embrace;
They are but blind to the kingdom of nothing,
Only see moats, and wall canons jutting.
My castle of ghosts, the court I control,
Those remain hidden, deep in my soul.
The siren song, my foggy lullaby,
The velvety clouds on which my thoughts lie.
It is morphium, made in my mind
Embroidered dullness only I can find.
The words bounce off my protective bubble,
Your bombs shatter into a gray rubble.
I blow it away, along with my fears,
I got good at this, during the years.

Give me some credit, I am no fool,
Where others would drown, I can rule;
I know not to freeze, when water's too cool,
The fire you'd burn in, I use as fuel.

Yes, it's a thin line, I know it best,
But I'm a trapeze-artist, can pass the test;
A veteran of trade, the air is my nest,
I've learned to live without getting rest.

And I know my limits, how far I can press,
Worry you not, I've survived on much less.
I'm not glass, disperse your concerns,
If need be, the lace to razor wire turns.
19.09.2020.
Mimi Hachiko Jan 2020
A child shoved in an adults body
Craftsmanship pretty shoddy
Spirals plus games I cannot play
Atonements I could never pay
Alone but not yet still afraid
Being told I should have stayed
A cascade of regret and yet
I'm the threat
kodi Jan 2020
i'm sick
             of being
                             mentally ill
       but then
                       what would i write about?
jeristorms Sep 2019
Pad and pen,
here are Casey’s thoughts again...

Driving down the highway, Jason is strapped in because Casey’s in denial again. She doesn’t want to lose her little one.

Wake up Casey, you’re dreaming. He’s gone.
You drove under the influence.
What’s wrong with you?  
This is what you get. He’s never coming back.

Driving silent like a mime with its mouth sewn shut.
You’re just like a mime, living in a black and white world.
You’re gray matter Case.
You’re a nut-case.
Where’d you put your straight jacket?

You hit your brakes to assure Jason will be safe.
Convinced that at every intersection there’s a conspiracy against you,
sure to get hit.

But Casey, it’s too late. This is what you get.
He’s never coming back.

Why’d you have to reach for more?



Lock her up.
Strap her in.

Casey's off the deep end... again.
Mentally ill.
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