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Madhumita Nov 15
Today I woke up
hating myself
more than I did yesterday.

Today I wept;
wished I could change,
become a different person.

Today I vowed
to save myself,
to start anew.

Today I failed again;
my resolve trapped
inside my leaden bones.

Today I will sink,
broken
with the hope that
tomorrow
I will rise,
whole.
Living life on repeat
heart, a softened shard
thumping deeper than itself
I insert music in my ears
Picking things, living and inanimate,
snatching from all around me;
I put reality in my pocket,
kidnapping eyes
as I build my time-armor
to crunch the kilometers
so hard to swallow
feeding the cogs of routine
daily and hourly bits of myself
...crudely put in shape...
Joy Oct 28
The girl sits at the open window
on the fourth floor
with a cigarette in hand
and wonders how to quit smoking.
She's got a busy week ahead of her.
She has papers to write
and books to read
and things to calculate
and floors to clean
and laundry to do.
But she wants to change it.
She cannot comprehend
how one can be bored
with the washed out colors of the flats
or their decaying walls.
She wonders how one is not delighted
by the strange boy
in the building opposite.
The neighbors have complained
how he keeps playing his trumpet
with his window open.
He's not good at playing.
Not at all really.
But he keeps torturing the poor instrument.
She seems to be the only one
who gets it.
Practice doesn't make perfect
if you don't fix your mistakes.
It just glues them
into permanent.
But he sounds
so wretchedly convinced
that if he blows one more time
he may just get it right.
And the neighbors seem convinced
that if he stops playing
their little lives will get better.
And the girl seems convinced
that after this one cigarette
she'll be better.
He won't.
They won't.
She won't, even as she understands it.
Practice and repetition don't breed perfect.
The cause permanent.
Jiya Oct 24
here i sit
here i stay
here i will cry
til i slowly waste away
if to breathe is to drown
to drown is to sing
a drug that can ****
can heal a king
here she sits
here she stays
here she will cry
til she slowly wastes away
if to crawl is to sink
to sink is to fly
a man that loves ***
can hate his own life
here he sits
here he stays
here he will cry
til he slowly wastes away
just a word ***** poem written whilst i was bored in class.
Kathryn Irene Oct 22
Tugging at the empty void,
In hoping there might be something else
Something more to call your own
You keep your eyes open,
As if the more you look the more you see

But the more you see,
All you see is darkness
Your failures and incorrect fragmentations

Oh woe with me,
these scars run oh so deep
What hope is there for me?

Perhaps I can call someone "friend"
hold their hand and
have my first kiss

I dream, I dream, I dream
I dream of something more
Beyond the realm of truth

Tugged this way and that
I'll be stuck in my own discretions
My own damages, my own keys

A singular phrase breaks my wounded mind
As if someone actually cares
About what lies beneath this wickedness

Carry on,
Breathe
Smile.

Carry on,
Breathe
Smile.

and repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat

repeat.

Until the feelings I have lost
The warmth of your embrace
The hope I find once again
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Fills you up with carrion,
And leaves you to marinate,
Merely Marionetting movements,
Jerky and unfamiliar with the phlegm thick,
Cement heavy,
Consistency of your limbs,
Tires you out,
Until you sit a screen zombie,
Nonplused,
Having your scalp pulled back and skull
Cracked,
Like a jaw breaker
Penguin Poems Oct 17
Out on a drive with me
It all starts out the same
The second that I turn the key
It turns into a game.

First, on the radio:
The song has to be just right
Especially not advertisements,
Sometimes they keep me from sleeping at night.

After that, I sit and think
And think and think some more
But the more I think, the more I ask
What is this all for?

Hey! No time for crises!
Let’s play games!
How many cars can you stack?
Anything to keep my brain tame.

But I’ve already thought of that game
So many times
I don’t want to play that game anymore
Repetition is what I most despise.

So I think my thoughts again
They’re even louder now
Stop stop stop stop
But how how how?

My pressure increases on the gas
Zoom zoom zoom
But it’s not because I want to go fast
It’s my head: boom boom boom

It pounds with the same thoughts
Over and over— yet
I can’t just think about something else
I can’t let myself forget

What if I crash the car?
What if I die tonight?
Stop stop please stop
Filling my head with more fright

I take a different way home
I’ve taken that one too many times
Even though it’s a little slower
And there are way too many lights

The water dripping down my neck
Is Chinese water torture
So wipe it off quickly quickly NOW
before you subject yourself to more torture

Torture torture
Driving like this is torture
Stop grinding your teeth, it hurts
You’ve been doing it since your departure

Honest to ***, I want it to stop
The repetition is too much
I hate it
I hate it
I hate it
Make it stop.
I think I might not be mentally okay I hate driving nowadays
Joliver Sep 29
The world is burning
But I'm okay
I'm okay
I'm okay

My hands won't stop shaking
But I'm okay
I'm okay
I'm okay

I feel so isolated
But I'm okay
I'm okay
I'm okay

I'm full of regret
But I'm okay
I'm okay
I'm okay

I can't sleep
But I'm okay
I'm okay
I'm okay

I can't drag myself out of bed
But I'm okay
I'm okay
I'm okay

I'm having trouble breathing
But I'm okay
I'm okay
I'm okay

I feel so gross
But I'm okay
I'm okay
I'm okay

I don't take care of myself
But I'm okay
I'm okay
I'm okay

I don't see the point
But I'm okay
I'm okay
I'm okay

-

Tomorrow will be better
And I'll be okay
I'll be okay
I'll be okay
I'm used to assuring others that I'm okay, but the person I really need to convince is myself
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