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Manny Aug 14
I'm not ok
Is that the first step I should take
Should I admit to my mistakes
Should I reach for another bottle
Cry about how much this aches
I'm not ok
But it's never going to end
Maybe all I needed was a friend
But now I'm holding to this blade
Tempted to cut again
Because every time I look into the mirror
I just want to ******* scream
I swear to God that I still hear them
And they keeps whispering to me
How my death is drawing near
I'm not as happy as I seem
So listen closely
I don't think you should love me
I only use you when I'm lonely
Wrap your arms around my neck
And start kissing me slowly
It's ******* crazy
I only think about it lately
My death
And I don't think someone exists
Out there that can still save me
I am sick
I admit that I'm not ok
An atheist that drops to his knees
Sometimes to pray
And I scream until there's nothing left
To say
Cry into my hands until my lips start turning grey
But every time I lay to go to sleep
I keep getting haunted in my dreams
Gasping and I'm sweating
Trapped inside the devil's schemes
"You're worthless, you should die"
Tearing down my self-esteem
So listen closely
I don't think you should love me
I always act so coldly
I'll smile to your face
But know that I am phony
And yes I'm crazy
I think about it
Much more lately
My death
And I don't want someone to
Save me
Amulya Aug 8
There's no one without flaws,
Like a paw without claws,
Fall seven,stand eight,
You are not your mistake,
Learn from it,
Before it's too late,
It's ok to fall,
To cry and bleed through it all,
It'll all make sense in the end,
Trust the journey,my friend.
For someone who needs it, including myself.
Lizzie Jul 31
I need someone...
I feel so lost, I don't know who I am or who I want to be...
You try to comfort me, tell me it's all going to be ok;
but it never is....
Why is it never ok....
I'm lost in this dark curtain of depression,
     searching for a way out of this hell i call my mind...
Please help me.... anyone..... I can't do this anymore...
I'm sorry... I'm so sorry......
Chris Neilson Jul 22
I asked OK Google woman
"I wanna know what love is"
OKGW, "I want you to show me"
"I wanna feel what love is"
OKGW, "I know you can show me"
"How do I show you what love is?"
OKGW, "By ending asking me questions relating to the mediocre, slow paced American poodle headed soft rock band who were popular with listeners who should know  better in the 1980s"
Morning Jul 21
I think I loved you once upon a whispers dream.
I think I cared for you more than I thought,
More than it really must seem.
Because what is love to a seed?

A seed with no real intentions.
With no real expressions, but its expected
To grow.

To grow, in the ash painted battlefield,
Where the war set its claim.
The field you fled from, yet your spout remained.
A seed without its sower? A farm without its grower,
but somehow it continued to maintain.
In the beep pits of soot, it set's its proclaims
However, without its owner, it was all said in vein.
I'm sorry, let me refrain.

Refrain from expressing too much because I think it was all too late.
Refrain from expressing it all because I think you were my soul mate.
why me so dark  ^.^
Jarene Jul 1
if only you could see
i’m falling apart at the seams
a beautiful mess
as self distructuve as can be
Eva Rushton Jun 2
Rushing towards the lights I awake
Just a dream
Or is it ?
My head screams inside
As my body lays in sweat soaked clothes
Squeezing my eyes attempting to forget
But my heart continues to remember
Is my body shaking
Or is it rocking from the truck racing to the scene
Alone in my house
Yet people are yelling , help him
My room is lit by ghostly flames
That darken my reality
The smell of smoke
Burns the image deep
As my nostrils flare trying
To catch my breath
Forcing myself to sit
My body is heavy
My pyjamas now bunker gear
I stand  in my bedroom and walk
Trying to awaken from
What haunts in the  darkness of night
      
Written by E.M.Rushton
June 1 2019
All ©️Copyrights reserved by E.M.Rushton May 1 2019
June is PTSD month.  I write this knowing how some calls can affect a person
Madison May 30
And by the end of it all,
I will be br ok en.
jl May 17
choosing to be a poet,
to spill like this,
bleed like this,
cry like this,
my pain becomes an exhibit.
an exhibit for people,
people to walk through,
to walk and admire,
to admire and then leave
when they are ready,
leave and go about their day.
the thing is, no one
cares if a museum
is okay
~j.l.
badtaste May 17
WAKINGUP...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~­~~~~~~~
I couldn't sleep again
only remembering thoughts
scattered like puzzle pieces
of back when
I was told in school
making friends comes second
happiness comes third...


MEANWHILE ATSCHOOL...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~­~~~~~~~
in poetry class
we were shown
how words can make hearts melt like snow
and that we each have the power
to thaw out the cold
from anybody with a kindle in their soul


AFTER SCHOOL...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~­~~~~~
in a parking lot
alone in my 98 Camry
I didn't just **** the engine
I snapped the cars personified neck
with the flick of my shaking hand

I hold a pen
a beautiful pen
from the girl who sat behind me in
poetry

from the glovebox
I hold a gun
a powerful fierce magnum
that spits fire across my temple
helping me get some sleep I've been dreaming
of...
I never learned how to use imagery in poetry class...
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