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Delyla Nunez Dec 2020
There’s a small voice screaming.

It sits on the floor,
Legs pressed to its chest

Blood starts to run down its arms,
Never did I notice.
How could I miss such detail.

It’s dying.
Begging for its life.
Hoping for another chance.
But it never would.

The deed is done.
Today was the day, she stopped caring. Recklessness invades and it’s time to listen.
tiredkoalahugs Dec 2020
Is this it?
Is this missing piece
The dancing in the rain,
The everfading pain,
Is this it?
Oh for what is this new feeling that I didnt realize I missed,
And the feeling of what it's like to be kissed
Oh the joy
Is this it?
The end of the puzzle
The end of the search
The end of the pain
This is it isn't it?
This is happiness
To dom, xoxo
Dev A Dec 2020
I wonder if I don’t text you first
If I don’t call you first
If I don’t message you first
Will you keep talking to me?

I wonder if I don’t start every conversation
If I don’t make an effort
Will you still be in my life?

Being the one to always start
I wonder what would happen
If I simply chose not to be the first.

How long would it take you?
To call me,
To text me,
To find where I am?

Would you notice if
I never came back
I never called you again
I never made my presence known?

Sitting here alone
Day after day
I wonder
Would you really care if…

I never came back…?
Ashlynn Rose Dec 2020
I only ask you to listen.
My mind is a prison. I feel imprisoned.
My past is not something I want to reminisce.
It hurts like a clenched fist.
I dismiss it. Let it free into the abyss.
I'll give it time but this won't define my life.
So I craft my own demise.
Consider this my afterlife.
I am still alive, but who that girl was, has died.
Maegan deme Dec 2020
i try really hard not to cry a lot.
and i try to stop myself from thinking about anymore sort of losses.
and i try really really hard not to realize the loss my dog is more hurtful than the loss of my late grandfather.
there's a difference in-between spontaneity and fore-told doom regarding loss.
there's a difference between having someone on my bed every night,
and the loss of humanity that Alzheimer turns you into.
i don't know which one i'd rather choose,
another 6 years of knowing they aren't there anymore.
or another dead dog.
i just can't i dont even know what i can't anymore. this is just too **** ******* much emotion i don't know how to handle it. i've spent so long being a shell that being filled with anything but emptiness is confounding and not understandable
Dayda Jun 2020
You used to make me feel giddy
Anticipating for our next rendezvous
You used to make me able
To fly around without visible wings

You used to make me see
Things which were not real
You used to make me fight
For justice which was not even fair

You used to make me angry
When you disappeared out of thin air
You used to make me cry
Endless tears while mending my owh so broken heart

You now make me feel proud
Of picking up the shattered pieces you left behind
You now make me feel great
For being the only one wearing the parent cap

You now make me feel nothing
Because really I am the one who I should thank
You now make me feel zero
Because that's what you are, nil, nada, no more
Loved hard, cried hard, worked harder, enjoying life hardest now.
Ash C Feb 2020
I'd wish it was

The ripping inside
Hammers bang the skull
Eyes cry acid

Anger is shaking me
It's screaming through the jitters
Eyes are the source of a waterfall
Tearing apart with sight

Feet are going raw
Sound is scratching
Touch is burning

Slipping through it all

A deep sorrow opens the gate
Leaving the land dead
Dust is flying


I'd wish it gone
SWebster Feb 2020
Exhaustion tears through my heart
My mind stutters over thoughts
My lungs ache from breathing
And I’m itching for emptiness.
maya cahill Dec 2019
she watched slowly as her mother came later in the night
and her father no longer came home after work
and her sister sleepover at her friend’s house
and her brother lock himself in his room the thumping of the bass vibrating both their walls
and she saw as no one showed up at their weekly sunday brunches.
or when no one was there for breakfast
and no one showed up for dinner
and she never saw her sister anymore
and when she knocked on her mother’s bedroom door in the morning there was never a response
and she missed it,
she missed sunday brunches with her family and no one missing out because her father was the best cook in their family
and when she baked cookies or a big coconut cake for just the five of them on friday nights,
because the were watching the james bond movies or the lion king series all in one night
and she missed it,
because now on sunday mornings she got takeout from ihop and sat at the table alone
glancing at the clock till it read 1.00 and then she picked up the other four plates and washed the clean plates anyway, and on friday nights she’d bake a cake anyway with no one there to eat it.
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