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Holly Jun 1
I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
There you are,
someone who could
could teach me
what it feels like
to love myself,
and yet
I hold you in my hands
and I ruin
the chance you
hold out to me
so willingly.
I feel so damaged
that the pieces of me
that still cling
sickeningly to my ribs
don’t feel like me anymore,
But tiny monsters
that do nothing
but hurt
everything I touch.
My throat burns
with the words
that I don’t say,
thoughts so loud
that sometimes I want
to scratch them violently
into my wrists
so you can see them
and I won’t drown
in them anymore.
But I won’t.
And I can’t.
And if you don’t
get away now,
you will be nothing
but a broken memory
beneath my feet
that feel like they were made
to walk over you.
Maurice Apr 5
You're like the villain in my own story
as soon as it seems good you reappear,
what was once so close is no longer near.

When I take one step forward, you take two steps back
two steps forward, four steps back
no matter where I go, I'm always trapped.

I stand on these crutches but others stand higher,
while they're looking ahead, I'm looking tired
I guess it's just how we're wired.

We've convinced ourself this is normal
"I'm just stuck in a rut!" but in actuality,
maybe I'm just a nut?
04/5/20
Em MacKenzie Oct 2019
Seems I like dark deception
and the odd manipulative game,
I question quality of reflection
as each shares the same.
And it seemed like love
until I’ve finally had enough.

I tie up my own two feet
and put my hands straight to shackle,
and while the imprisonment is sweet
there’s too much bitterness to tackle.
And it seemed like love
until the rose tint got scuffed.

She shook the flowers from her hair
and my fingers were cut from the thorns of the tangles.
I thought there were a million clear signs there
I took the time to find each direction, possibilities and angles.
Did I demonize a saint?
or did I give a monster wings?
The image is up for perception, not the paint,
and the same song is different depending on who sings.

Seems I attract words of blades
and metaphorical slaps in the face,
deciphering shadows into different shades
and ranking them last to first place.
And I wanted it to be love,
but it was lower when I thought it above.

I see false inflated importance
or I see nothing at all.
With black and white I took a grey stance,
but my planted feet kept me from standing tall.
An empty home with a closing wall.

Seems I like dark deception
and the odd manipulative game,
I convince myself it’s forms of affection,
so it’s only I to blame.
And it seemed like love,
but I chose the noose instead of my glove.
Matthew Harlovic Sep 2019
You profess to value all life
so you don't strike to ****
You hype the truth, and
gorge on the fear you instill

© Matthew Harlovic
Lost Jul 2019
I’m drowning in ****
Spewing from my own ***
I’m in a fountain of it
I’m the figurehead vomiting
Liquid feces

I’m not rude
I’m not crass
I’m telling the truth

And sometimes
Honesty ******* stinks
Especially when the reality is
That it’s your own ******* fault
Self-sabotage
Bleeding from the walls

I’m drowning in ****
Spewing from my own ***
How long?
How long until you catch
The stifling odor
The aroma of ****
Would you stick around
Would it be worth it?

Big ******* doubt
You’ll do a 180
And turn right the **** around
Running in the opposite direction
Because you found out
That I’m full
Of
****

Come
And
Sit
Next to me
I’m laying here
Festering
Soiled and soaked
Questioning
When somebody will come along
Without leaving
When my **** stinks
Too much
Sorry if the gross imagery is a little overkill lol. Just had to get this one out. Off all my meds right now and my mind is a messy place to be.
She Writes Jun 2019
I pen my poetry in ink
Instead of lead
Because I tend to ovethink
Then begin to dread

Criticize my own writing
Before the critics get the chance
My anxiety fighting
Telling me to erase with every glance

My work isn't good enough
Erase write repeat
Poems are just not up to *****
I should accept my defeat

So now I use ink
There is no going back
Nothing to rethink
No need to self attack

My words freely flow
From pen to page
Allowing myself to heal and grow
Displaying my poems on main stage
She Writes Jun 2019
I pen my poetry in ink
Instead of lead
Because I tend to ovethink
Then begin to dread

Criticize my own writing
Before the critics get the chance
My anxiety fighting
Telling me to erase with every glance

My work isn't good enough
Erase write repeat
Poems are just not up to *****
I should accept my defeat

So now I use ink
There is no going back
Nothing to rethink
No need to self attack

My words freely flow
From pen to page
Allowing myself to heal and grow
Displaying my poems on main stage
Arisa May 2019
I felt like I shot myself that night,
When I blamed life for all of my problems.
I felt like I hung myself with the tough rope that dawn,
When I blamed the other for making me feel such strong emotions.
I felt like I choked myself on water,
Filling my lungs with it that day
I stared at Death in the eyes and he could only muster a raw cackle.
I do this to myself.
Deanna Dellia Apr 2019
Why do bad decisions like you 
call to me
Like a siren’s song 
leading my ship to wreckage 
I feel drawn to you 
like a current 
I have to have you 
or maybe I need you to have me 
I just want to pass the time 
but I also need time to stop 
I want to be seen 
but I also want to disappear 
You’re my escape 
from myself 
You’re my Canosa 
So drag me to the bottom 
of the sea 
There is nothing up here 
for me 

- Sabotage
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