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Jo Barber Feb 2019
As her final breaths escaped her,
she felt calmed by the epiphany
that peace would follow her.
Not right away, but it would come.
Sleepy Sunday afternoons,
and days spent without thought.
Her pain now was fleeting,
so corporeal in nature
as to be meaningless;
her mind was as white
as the snow in which she lay.

All was still. All was done.
And all was begun anew.
Anthony Mayfield Feb 2019
Allow me this moment to laugh
To scoff
My victory is keen
You lost in the dark
Wet
Cold
Obscene
I want to hurt you
Because I love you
I want to **** you
Because I love you
It was so easy
You were such weakling
I came right in
And shot you out
Dead
Frigid
Stolen
I want to hurt you
Because I love you
I want to **** you
Because I love you
And when you're dead
I will be back
Reborn
Alive
Together, I'll thrive
If my depression was sentient and had a voice, we would be entangled in a tragic Shakespearean romance.
Toxic yeti Feb 2019
The day that
I
Become
A ghost butterfly
I will
Break free from
The crytaless
I shall take of
Have a flight of fancy.
Sam Feb 2019
wake up
breath in and out
take in the new day like a leaf absorbs the morning dew
it's time to go

yesterday's errors are erased when the clock strikes twelve
you are new
you are a butterfly breaking out of a cocoon of coulda-woulda-shoulda
ready to take flight and make brand new beautiful mistakes

you've never had a day quite like today before
you'll never have a day quite like today again
so embrace it
Victor D López Feb 2019
Life is but a prelude to that which is to come,
Our pain and ecstasy are just ephemeral dreams,
We dream along the journey through the birth canal,
That leads to our emergence draped in glory's light,
Of our true birth in the arms of eternity.
Matthew Feb 2019
I Know
I am just
An Old Shoe
That should be thrown away
But if you tear me to small pieces.
And rearrange my flesh to be with you
It could be the perfect fit for me and you.
Love,
Your Old Shoe
Toxic yeti Feb 2019
If I was
A ghost
I would be free
To be me

If I was a ghost
I would be free
Desire
And possible romance
That causes suffering

If I were a ghost
I would be free
From my
Background
Even though I was good looking

I would become
An exotic butterfly
Appreciated for its
Beauty.
Stu Feb 2019
Who do you call when your brain is on fire?
When sunshine strips
begin to fade from the bed sheets,
And you find, yet again,
That you've allowed a day's worth of stability
To deconstruct itself.
For a while, a silhouette you will remain,
Chasing the origin of light,
Only to fall into the one thing blocking it.

What happens when a brain is burnt out?
Drawing out breaths that latch to the cold air,
When you stand with weary muscles,
A title wrapped around your forehead,
And a frustration festering.
Holding close to the last remaining memories,
Of security, of solidarity, of purity.
Losing yourself to yourself,
Costs less and less each time.

When do you decide a brain needs fixing?
When the ride home is full of regret,
And your legs cannot stop shaking.
A miserable night will be swept under the rug,
So dogear the scripture you spoke belligerently,
And the world will suddenly seem small.
A breakdown happens when most needed.
A breakthrough happens when least expected.

How do you fix a brain?
Probably, the day without questioning it all,
Will be the day you figure the most out.
If we can get a mixed up mind to settle,
Then the first thing to learn would
Be the acknowledgment of a new, better life.
We will all survive our demanding brains,
if only someone will show us the way,
Will someone please show us the way,
Before another brain is ignited?
For an old friend.
Saint Audrey Feb 2019
It's in obscure recollection
I wonder if it's falsified
Hesitant about the path I can't abandon now
Finding new ways to survive

Bathed in the rays of the sun
Fraught with uncertainty
I wasn't prepared for the atmosphere
Losing my chance to speak

I never had a key
It fell in place
Though I still sleep
I hold to grace
Hoping to recover what's around me

I guess It's still on me
I don't feel the same
Lost in this sleep
I hold to grace
With the colors all around me

But your words
They always bleed through

I'm aware
You think the ways I do

And your words
They always ring true

And your words
They'll always bleed through
Philomena Feb 2019
What more can I say
It's a violent kind of pain
The kind that never ends
And I have no one to blame but myself
Always pushing just a little farther
A little deeper
with dainty cuts
And horrid slashes
Blood was like water
And I was a river
Always flowing
Never ending
And we were one
The bleeding was me
And I was always bleeding

Slash in he morning to calm my nerves
Slash at night to put me to rest
Glass in my mouth while I sat in class
And every time it was to much the gentle push of my tongue
Feeling the roof of my mouth split
And the cold taste of blood

I miss the soft kiss of pain with every wound
And I miss feeling relaxed wile life poured from my wrists
I miss the pain and the misery

But it brought me no relief
Just a constant hunger for more
So today I fast from the pain
As I will tomorrow and the next day
And maybe one day
My wrists won't hurt anymore
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