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nif Apr 27
can't get out of the house
can't get out of my head
nothing to be said
no need to leave my bed
what a day
flipping hay
what to do
what to say
could pick up food
but to save money
we stay
inside my mind
a constant rhyme
a song plays on
repeat on
this line
straight on
again find myself
a slap of butter stick
melt me on repeat
into these sheets
turn up the heat
feeling weak i finally speak
up on what's
going on
inside is the world
I carry on  
with this poem
mental health check during quarantine
nif Apr 26
you are a man
with a plan
from where I stand
one hand
tied
to my backside

why
oh why
must i comply
one track
mind
flick onto
a folded blind

why
oh why
must you spit
into my eye

lie
on the floor
naked soul
survived.
abuse is forever embedded on your soul
remember you are a survivor
and now you're made of gold
Osiria Melody Dec 2019
CRY
For those who know, know that I’m resilient
Resilient as the wind of valor that pushes my sail of conquest forward
Forward across the waters of tribulations
Tribulations that have held dominion over my life

Life has always dealt me a lucky hand
Hand me a knife and I won’t stab myself
Myself, a lone wolf who cries to hunt

Hunt the treacherous voice in my head
Head that keeps me afloat
Afloat in an abyss of whether tomorrow is worth it for

For those of you who know, should know that I’m weak
Weak as the storm of fear that splits my sail of valor, shoving my conquest backward
Backward into the whirlpool of tribulations
Tribulations that hold dominion over my life

Life hasn’t always dealt me a lucky hand
Hand me a knife and I will stab myself
Myself, a lone wolf who yearns to be hunted

Hunted by the treacherous voice in my head
Head that keeps me adrift
Adrift in an abyss that life isn’t worth it

It dawned on me that I ain’t good for anything
Anything, except to cry
Cry when I’m alone, and maybe

Maybe life will deal me a better hand
Hand me a knife, and I’ll reconsider



Melody
12/15/19
I started writing in my journal recently, which is surprising since I usually don’t write in it. I’ve never felt so loved after I vented to myself. This poem’s a projection of the anguish that overcomes my senses now and then. I also cry to let my feelings out; I used to believe that crying made me weaker, but it made me stronger. The knife symbolizes anguish. I used to let it stab me and I used to be in denial of it. For the first time, in all of the times that I’ve written in a journal, I don’t feel weak when I write about feeling weak. I know that I ain’t weak when I don’t feel strong and I’m happy for waking up to another day; every day’s another chance to be stronger.
Alexis Jul 2019
and although I post them,

I only every write these poems

for me .
color me selfish
Empire Apr 2019
They left me alone when I was young
The monsters did
But I got bored of being myself
Plain and simple
And they told me it would be fun
They made my blood pump
And the serotonin flooded my brain
But they started to take over
Their tastes grew darker
It got harder to push them aside
I started losing control
So I learned to channel them
To write their desires
To control the pleasure from the dark depths
Now these words are what remain
My only fix
The solitary outlet
For the monsters inside
vinci Feb 2019
I need a new outlet
I need a new outfit
Cuz I'm burning out
And soon I'll be naked

My clothes are burning off
But then you'll see my heart
When these flames burn off my skin
So I'll think twice about it.
9/14/18 2:34a.m.
Vy S Jan 2019
It didn't matter. We didn't matter.
"I saw you and felt nothing."
"I saw...you know...and felt something."
That's what you said to me.
You don't want to keep hurting me.
You didn't want to keep lying.
Those statements didn't make a difference when I confronted you, crying.

"Honestly, you're sick."
Disgust and a sour taste filled my mouth.
Your feelings for me are too intense?
That was the same for me.
Notice how that sentence was in past tense.
You couldn't breathe for a second?
You didn't think about your lapse in judgement?
I'm not asking for the world, which you wouldn't be able to give.
I'm asking for the respect,
r the prospect.

Now I'm here, confused.
Tell me what am I supposed to do?
Hold your hand and be a healer
or slap it away because of fear.
Heavy Hearted Dec 2018
An outlet of articulates, is this solemn, surreal site.
Many minds, and many more, shall glow beneath its light.
Yet sadly for myself I've found, the holes within it all,
and now no longer does my heart, answer to its call.

Goodbye poetry, and thank you always; you deserve all you achieve-

Thank you for giving us a place
to share what we believe.

I will say hello to you, and glow with all again someday,
But for now I say goodbye- as I go on my own way.
brb
Jason Seawright Dec 2018
The howling dark, twists my soul, let life be forgotten once more.
The dark cavern that is my chest lets even the brightest of lights die,
never can I rest, troubled times are all I have, I revel in my own misery
every night before the cold embrace of sleep takes hold of my sickened life,
words of lies to others is all I have, I pass each day with thoughts of sanity but
these thoughts of sanity cause my insanity, I hear the howling winds once more,
they taunt me, will my mind break from these sounds or will the wind end before the dawn.
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