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ag Aug 25
I always write every thoughts and every words that would come up in my head on any of my blank pages.

But this time, I stopped writing my thoughts and had not touched my blank pages anymore.

Because, I’m afraid I’ll write about you again.
Madeleine Aug 22
My Child
I give to you in pieces
So you are not overwhelmed
By all that I have for you
Holding broken pieces of past in the palms of my outstretched hands
Reasons evade me
I sit here struggling to understand
The edges dig deep
Causing tender skin to seep scarlet drops
Taking Tylenol to pummel pain until it finally stops
I'm ready to give up life and dive headfirst into my grave
It is difficult for me but I must admit my soul is far too gone to save
The devil stole it from my bones and doesn't plan on giving it back
Without it polished surface falters and slowly begins to crack
Just a glimpse into my depressing life
Nour mghh Feb 2022
We weren’t supposed
To come across one another
It was a November breeze
That made us crash into
Each other’s arms
Just to leave us
Shattered in pieces
still there
regina Nov 2021
Tonight I came to a realization.
That each one of us is broken.
And to portray:
Possibly our life is like an incomplete puzzle.

If we are fortunate, we might find our missing pieces and make us whole.

Till we discover our missing pieces,
We will try to fill the void.
Searching for something that will make us feel less lonely.

Aren't we all lonely?
heh my boyfriend is kinda sad tonight. it inspires me to write
Abi Nov 2021
“I wish I wrote the way I thought;
With maddening hunger.
I’d write to the point of suffocation.
I’d write myself into nervous breakdowns,
Manuscripts spiraling out like tentacles into abysmal nothing.
And I’d write about you a lot more than I should.”
-Benedict Smith

But instead I write nothing
And hope that my thoughts are understood through my actions
Knowing the impossibility of it all
Because of the enigma that I was and continue to be
Desperate to fix myself when there is nothing broken
Grasping at pieces to make whole what was never shattered in the first place

I have created an illusion for myself to live with my trauma and try to label what makes me different
But I am slowly realizing that trauma does not define me
And my differences are what make me unique
What give me the power to view the world the way I do
What will enable me to change the broken world around me and finally allow myself a sense of peace

Some may say that I am selfish, to want to fix others but to never acknowledge my own flaws
This is not me saying I am perfect, but instead me finally giving myself closure from the wounds inflicted upon me by others... and by my self
No longer need I patch myself up and play the role designed by those trying to mold me into what they think I should be
No more do I daydream about the ways I could love you but never be loved in return
For the first time, I am free
Cheers to letting go of the things we cannot control and allowing ourselves to heal
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