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Aaryn Feb 28
I think of killing myself
how the silence would
be so freeing
and the darkness
to overcome
and I waiting to fulfill its infinite void

Sometimes I wish
to die
my breath to stop
the constant ringing
of the voices
in my head
they no longer
have hold
on my thoughts

sometimes I think
I'm lost
because the people around
don't know me
they don't know
the horrors
that sit
inside my skull

so sometimes
I think of killing myself
then they'll know
i was never fine
my long sleeves
are hiding scars
that appeared on my arms
I don't remember making them
but I know I did

but for now
I'm stuck
a stranger
with strange voices
telling me strange things
and I'm just a prisoner
stuck in my mind
forced to listen
forced to obey
because what happens
when your mind
turns its back on you
really it's the best prison there is
Von White Feb 11
No people can handle this ****.
Barely those who lives through this.
All purpose seems the life in flesh;
Is horrid at its best.
A twisted sitcom show.
That’s no less then cruel jokes.
many times in deepest holes.
eyes glorify the rope.
Or mind glorifies rope.
Who knows anymore.
One realizes loneliness is where the sick is born.
One realizes loneliness is how aching hearts shall mourn.
Yet again these thoughts of red,
beg that one please will tend.
With sharp swords and gore.
Of Blades piercing flesh
Of sharp swords and gore
until limbs be torn.
Surgical mesh be drenched.
This stomach is so sore.
Destruction absorbed.
Self infliction is adored.
in that wretched mirror.
It is so crystal clear.
This face  needs disfigured
This face needs to be Seared
An urge to burn the face,
as well as to cut.
Perform practices precise.
To tame the craves;
for blades
that thrusts.
Fugly as the **** duckling.
If his feathers he began plucking.
repulsive ravishing disgust.
Spit at reflections for good luck.
Anger and vile succumb as it does.
In all ways that it can be done,
This self harm now one knows and loves.
Black seems white feathers of doves.
Insi­de black demented places.
Lurk do entities of hatred.
Laugh in masks like a masterpiece painted.
Unfazed as if one is sedated.
Forever this chaos.
in pureness created.
Dead be these roses.
in violet vases.
To remain cloaked in magic states.
Still many strife always remains.
At times it seems the blind are divine.
Dilated be these eyes.
Shall needles pierce eyeballs to disdain.
Urning to spray the eyes with mace.
Keep the hArd drugs in the brain.  coursing through collapsed and thin veins.
Keeping the *** from being laced.
Without intoxicates still insane.
Only hopelessness and endless pain.
At a young age came,
demented strange days.
Paranoid in fear;
With destructive paths near.
malevolent demeanors have now appeared.
For so long felt so helpless.
Life in all forms is selfish.
As despair impairs.
One becomes more selfless.
Remain thy light in darkness black.
While psychosis viciously attacks.
Crack back
Owning a craft.
Obsessed with knives and plastic wrap.
Unorthodox ways.
Leaving blood that rains.
Up for many nights and days
Owning a craft.
This world is sad
left perception oh so mad.
One of  my longer poems, it will be used as lyrics for my project
Pauper of Prose Dec 2018
She marched on herself
All battle lines and banners
Weapons reflecting one another
Horns howled
So that two sides packed into combat
Crushing, piercing blood splattered blows
Heaps of fallen bodies
And the mounting casualties
Castrated the confidence
Of the two sides of the girl
Who marched on herself
Burn your skin. Burn your throat  
With a cup of gin,  
Don't pretend that you prevent  
A red glow searing in.  

In your soul no control,  
Through the skin and through the vein,  
The edge of pain can drown it all,  
And gin cuts the pain.  

Cold as blade, then searing hot,  
The words so soft and nice:  
A carefree home, no lighting rod,  
Before you struck it twice

Burn your soul
Because the wounds on the outsides
Are unlike the ones on the inside:
They will always heal.
I  made the original poem better
Industrial Death Dec 2017
Peeling scabs from skin
Feel the agony from within.
From the cradle-
To this hell I call life:
Known to well, the edge of a knife.
Opening self-inflicted wounds to
Feel the solemn woe!
Something I will never know.
Focus on the misery.
Cutting deeper than before.
Plagued to perish,
With open wounds
That will heal no more.
Drugs have left me numb.
My doctor gave me some.
So high I can't believe.
I love it,
I need it,
My doctor says it helps easee me
Their easeeing izzie
Change me , break me
Love me,hate me
Warp my being.
I have fake friends and progamable teachers.
Ordered to do as they do.
Empty of everything especially opinion unless it has with it gods intent.
This is all done to prevent separation
(Once more there is still segregation)
This only incites rebellion in me.
I hate this place so how do I escape.
Do I run or stay and go away in another way.
South parks advice is to just quit twitter.
This world isn't worth it to scaredto **** myself.
So I cut ,cut and cut my wrist
To take away my strife and find bliss.
School is honestly the route of almost evil it's a hub for people who like to pick on people to let their issues out its no place for a child no one deserves the endless ridicule that a pain please help the little guy stuff the big guy and the worst part is my school tends to protect the bullies more than the bullied.
Chloe Nov 2017
I wake up just in time to watch the sun set on the horizon.
I stay up all night to watch it rise again.
3:00am is when I demons start to roam,
And before I know it my sadness becomes my home.
I self medicate with drugs and alcohol that I know I don't need.
I do it to stop the craving of wanting to watch myself bleed.
I look at the scars that cover my skin.
They mock me, I'm trying so hard not to give in.
I sleep all day so I don't have to fake a smile.
I wish happiness was a mood that stayed for a while.

I wake up just in time to watch the sun set on the horizon.
I stay up all night to watch it rise again.
A poem about my struggle with mental illness, addiction, and self harm.
Squeezing out water droplets
Just before bed
I'm reminded of what I miss
The definition of what I called "freind"
Was changed eternally

I ran out of work manic,
Raced to the tatoo shop
And got what I had wanted for so long
A fish fossil right there on my forearm
Coverings for angry cuts
I went home and cleaned it, runned it down with lotion
And I'm reminded of this familiar sting

Flashbacks hit
And I was 14 again
Sitting on the porch with you nursing my wounds
My arms were swollen and sore
Sliced from top to bottom
And you were the only soul I told
You wrapped me up in bandages
And showed me yours
You said "see we're both ******* up!"

8 years later I lie on a mattress in a living room floor
Punched in the gut by the thought of you
And how you could take your own life also took my best freind

Emptiness has this warm subtle sting and I'd rather feel pain than nothing
But it's not self destruction anymore, it's therapy

And it makes me feel close to you.
This one isn't necessarily my style but I'm trying this honesty thing where I feel something intensely then write it down no editing, no working ******* it just getting it out of my head and onto the page.
Slow agony but still I cut binds
Blood filling every crevace as I go
If life was meant to be easy God would've made me pretty
I down my medication
And bind myself again
MJ Lee Aug 2016

That’s what you wanted
Just accepted silence
Just desired crying
Just no more defience

So why the **** do you want my voice
The ironic song bird wedged down my throat
You just want to hear your name screamed out
Whimpered out

I’d say ******* but you’d take it the wrong way
That or it won’t even reach past my new blue gloss

You want me to speak up now? Well you’ll get it, yet don’t blame me if my voice goes hoarse. My eyes bleed tears of forgiveness when looking disgusting and captivating as I screech like a banshee . With snot dribbling down my chin. With split ends visible in my wooden mane. With eyes turned muddy the unplanned forecast for blood thirst and depression

Like how about I talk about those long nights at McDonald, or when you sung lullabies that implanted insomnia, or the icy touch of your frostbitten hands looking for warmth and all you found was me. How about those whispered words of , “ I really like you.” Cuz four words are worth so much more than three. Each held more meaning than the last as if they were your last breath as you plunged inside me with dagger-claws. Yet I loved it, ****** I loved it! I loved being your barbie doll.

But were they even true

Were all the nights we stared at one another with clamped together hands just the darkness in your coal eyes wanting my spark. My bite. Was it just so you could see if I could be yours. Only yours. I left so many scars on you and you to me, and you told me you loved them. Your fingers would trace my stories I engraved upon your temple. But none were proof enough of how you ****** my mind up with yourself. Made me worshiped like a false goddess undeserving of your praise and love and soul and eyes and ******* I’m back your your dead ******* eyes even when you blinked to show you lived.

You knew I never loved anyone before you. Never held hands before you. Never had any lips besides your cracked ones trying to imitate a desert to trick others of nothingness that you’d whisper only to me. Never told a man nor woman that they were my first of everything before you. I was a tiger lily and you a ****. And you took it all away you ******* hypocrite!

You knew before I could even say wait. And I loved you for it, I still fuckning love you for it cuz I am a *****. My heart never beats when you aren’t around. I never needed to speak, you were the source of my puppeteer voice I used when other’s worried about something.

Yet now you want me to tell you lies. Tell you who hurt me


Tell you who used me

Tell you who ******* broke me down to a sniveling, worthless pile of ash


But instead of telling what was reality I played within your almond flavored fantasies and blamed everyone but you. For no, never you.You, you, you, you, you. Rigamortus won’t stop my hands from grabbing your shirt as I slowly sank to the ninth level of hell.



You're the reason
I slit my throat
******* my vocal cords.
Sewn shut my lips
It's no surprise I was thrown away
Like a broken doll

It's funny you see?
When you're choking you should see the irony
Ain't I the one that needs to hush up
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