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fray narte Jun 2020
someplace else
alice never bothered leaving.

i know a thing or two about girls who jump rabbit holes —
all dead eyes and ripped laces and cigarettes;
there was no white rabbit to begin with.
i know a thing or two about girls
who run away from themselves.

alice — a wildflower as they say:
with limbs made of wilted dahlias,
with wasps nesting in her chest — alice,
has the cat not told you that
one can only lay too much flowers
on just a single grave —
just a single hollow body,
before they grow into forest of trees
from where all your nooses hang?

nonetheless, tiptoe and fall.
this way to wonderland —
this way to the rabbit hole,
this way to the cemetery,
this way to your eyes,
to your chest,
to your palms.
has the fickle cat not told you that
there was no white rabbit
in the advent of your own apocalypse?

this is your fairytale, sweet, sweet girl.
light that cigarette and set yourself on fire,
your mind already is hell anyway.
and i know a thing or two about a girl who descended to hell —
you are proserpina without the weeping.
you are proserpina without the crown.

but in someplace else,
alice never bothered leaving.
no one's waiting back at home,
and no one's waiting to be found.
Mel Little Jun 2020
Laid up on the couch with one leg casually tossed over yours,
the room still vaguely spinning with one eye open.
Maybe downing 4 beers in an hour wasn't such a good idea, but my anxiety got the better of me, and I didn't know what else to do while everyone else stared at their phones and I stared at you, memorizing the planes of your face so I won't forget them again.
My head is pounding and I doze, YouTube in the background. It has to be late, or early.
The fan blows against my skin and I peek to see if you are still there. Yup. Okay. Breathe, Mel, breathe.
The nauseating feeling of being left again roils my stomach. Or maybe that's the beer again.
It has to be early, or late. But this moment will burn in my memory for days as I psychoanalyze everything I've done wrong that could make you want to run.
Is it early or late?
I wake up and you're not there, but when I stumble to the bathroom you're laying in your bed and I would join you but the room is still spinning and I need to just lay back down.
Gunnika Mehra Jun 2020
I look up,
At the sky.
Envy in my heart.
Everyone sees it,
Captures its beauty.
Even when it's dark,
It is loved.
When it floods the earth,
People forget so fast .
Again they capture its beauty.
Even though its lighting kills,
They like it still.
They look up and smile,
Compare it to everything nice.
And I look up at the sky too,
With pain in my heart.
My mistakes still live,
My past still haunts.
Dear people why can't you forget what I did
Like you forgave the sky.
Zhavaed Haemaed Jun 2020
Oh, how forgiven are we in death,
A price to pay, in the loss of life.
Oh, how unloved when we reside
Yet remembered so little, as we die
Living on in memories, of a few
That had, in life.. subtly touched us
And then cease to be, immaterial
Like many a soul has, before us.
Tragedy is when.. misunderstood,
And never were they, ever heard.
Tragic lives, and disavowed care,
And never was a beautiful word,
Catered to them, in their winter fair.
Do them a favour, and heed 'em well
As they .. in flesh, still breathe in air.
Do not,  please cry out in penitence,
And don their graves in flowers, rare.
Love them when they are still alive. For death will surely liberate each one of us.
JK Cabresos May 2020
midnight skies,
insatiable emotions

found ourselves
in tangled arms

musings on
lust and love;

love is not a need
but a feeling

lust makes our love
more compelling
Copyright ©️ 2020
tainted black May 2020
I filled in my lungs with cigarette smoke
Then bathed my body with water; it's cold
I closed my eyes, and I heard my self broke
With walls breaking down and tears I can't hold
Whispers came and they had bothered me then
Matched with headache and undying flu
Funny how I felt like caged in a den
A soul behind an eye none can see through
So I took a blade and I nursed my burns
Carved out shapes that looked like comets and stars
The blade skidding in every twist and turns
To be called art when they turn into scars


But right now I am wishing myself dead
To get a pistol and blow up my head
drafted this a year back when i felt helpless, distraught and alone. glad i've got passed through it.
Skyler Apr 2020
Why did it take so long
For me to face my fears?
To realise I was strong.
Strength would wipe away my tears.

A question asked by many.
Those looking within,
Those who cannot bury,
And feeling stretched thin.

Finding myself;
A life long quest.
'Look to thyself'
Given time, given rest

Your time will come.
Love and friendships will fade,
Depression that leaves you numb,
No doubt leaves us afraid.

Darling don't fret.
Your power is there,
Unseen as of yet,
Ready to glow and glare.

There are many nights ahead,
Soundless and sleepless alike,
Full of worry and dread,
Tears ready to strike.

These cannot be controlled,
Nor should they be feared.
Let the feelings roll,
Allow your mind to be cleared.

This cycle is found,
Over and over again.
Though you aren't bound
to hold onto the pain.
I realised that I have found my own self-worth and strength. I was asking myself why had it taken so long, and when had I realised. This poem is the result of my musings. I am always looking within, but now am beginning to cultivate positivity without neglecting my mental health.
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