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Limes Carma May 20
******* on a gun

Left side:

I hate myself,
I hate the life I live
Who I’ve become
And how little recognition that I get
How much the world took and how much to the world I give
Now all that is left is the urge to **** on a gun
So that’s what my old self did

Right side:

You don’t always heal.
Sometimes,
you execute the version of yourself
that kept you breathing
but not living.

You press the barrel to your mouth —
not to die,
but to speak
a final truth
through clenched teeth.

To say:
You failed me.
To say:
You kept me small.
To say:
You let the world hollow me out
and still begged for more.

And then —
you pull the trigger.
You feel the echo,
not in blood,
but in silence.

The silence of
not hating yourself anymore.
Of not needing to be
the same person
just because they survived.

You don’t die.
You don’t run.
You just leave behind
a version of you
that had nothing left.

And that, too,
is a kind of living
Concept
From heart and hand
Alexis May 2024
I used to put my faith into these numbers.
Wishing, hoping and dreaming that time could define
A perfect life with you….
and still
It doesn’t make sense to look back,
and think that 11:11 was just that.
“Make a wish” in text, sent every night,
Not a superstition and more than a time.
It was my way of saying that I truly love you,
and our dreams and our hopes will grow to be true.


I 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 to have faith
Amanda N Skaggs Apr 2020
Want frozen secrets?
Sir, your ice pick is too short.
Provide extension?
Jules Oct 2019
I wonder whether to be ignorant than aware
Would be worse
At least I'd be somewhat happy
On this perfect sunny earth
But I was never fond of summer to begin with
So I guess it doesn't matter if I'm here or nonexistent

Another part of me is kinda happy living free
To catch up with all the people and faces I used to be
Reminds me of home
from when I was younger
Who knew I'd miss the love and laughter
Like a brother
Jieun Sep 2019
I have photos on my wall
everywhere i see
the friends i used to have
the old young me
in each picture, there was a memory
and just so much more
but each picture keeps reminding me
the moments, i cant go back to anymore
alexa Mar 2018
it's back.
i'm back to my old ways.
i'm back into not loving myself.
i'm back into hating how i look.
i'm back into not understanding why i'm here.
i'm back into the old me.
i don't wanna be, but i am.
welcome.
hi. my depression is back and so here this is.
Liz Carlson Jul 2017
I look at that girl,
the one in the mirror.
Is that really me?

That girl with the sore eyes.
The one with a broken smile.
What happened to her?

Then I remember all the pain.
All the nights she cried herself to sleep.
All the nights she couldn't even close her eyes.
All those days spent looking at a screen,
envying the girls that were living.

She longed for that,
for a connection.
But she feared vulnerability and honesty.

So she stayed cooped in her tower of her making.
Spending her days in deep sorrow.
Is this how to live?
Not a flinch
Nor a word screamed
But the red stained carpet,
Matches the covered wrist

Blade thinning
Blood thickens
Deep breath and slight sigh

Blunt.
Sharp.
Neither will stop the urge
Nor will the screams for help

Scars heal
Memories dont
Memories wont...

— The End —