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Mark Wanless Jun 26
as a dead bird drops i fall into a silent place
with echoes upon echoes of mind moving itself
and i scream with the effort to speak of it
to retrieve a speck of the chill fire
to recognize and pronounce it a word
or shape of word      or confusion of word
to bear it into a semblance

I'd rather you use bombs and knives,
I'd rather you use guns and swords.
I'd rather that we would have fights;
that you'd leave me with open sores.

I'd rather you find a different weapon,
a different tool to use on me.
I wish you'd make me feel a pain;
I wish you'd leave me weak and ******.

Yet the sharpest tool is what you use;
you leave me dead inside.
I wish you'd tear my heart out;
I wish I would have died.

You open your mouth and the weapons spill out,
you're armed with words that you scream and shout.
The pain is unbearable, the torture indescribable.
I know there's no point in putting up a struggle.

You **** me, one by one,
your words an open ****.
They slice me up in pieces,
making me feel like trash.

All I can be is silent;
I know that is the best.
I try to block them out,
but they're already in my chest.

Your words are killing me;
a slow, antagonizing death.
Each word you say cuts me,
each wound raw and fresh.

I wish you'd let me be,
I wish you'd leave it unsaid.
I guess you just can't see
you can't bring someone back from the dead.


Only God can do that...
Mark Wanless Jan 13
lost in the desert of noise
eating greasy gobs
pain is the penalty of life
drugging in the hotel bathroom
spitting out the window
trashing all there is
complaining about the ****** mess
screaming no i didn't do this
aspen wilde Oct 2021
there is no future, and there is no escape
it’s now or never
i’ve never had this hollowness in my gut
where i realise there is no way out

i am trapped in this body but also forever
does that mean i’m trapped with this mind
i can’t go on like this anymore

it could happen at any moment
whether i go through the consequences then

i need to end this suffering
my head is so full i don’t know what i’m expected to do anymore
i just feel like an empty lifeless corpse

all i can do is float around and pretend to be a part of something when actually i'm not

i’ve lost the place i felt safe to somewhere i can’t see and don’t know if it’s true
i don’t understand it

but what’s the point anymore
if i’m going to end and all my friends are going to end
why not end now instead of suffering through day to day

i’m useless
worthless

i wish it was easier to let go
but i know it’s not easy
especially when no one can hear me

because i can only scream in silence
you’re my parents, you don’t realise but you’re pushing me further into myself and one day i won’t be able to come back

you’ve just told someone who’s already suicidal that there is no hope. how do you think i feel


because i can only scream in silence.
Alicia Moore Aug 2021
a silent cry can be heard
within a thought filled by screams,
but is anyone listening close enough
to hear the tears as they fall...

a passing silhouette may slip in the puddle
of whimpering sadness left behind,
but does anyone truly know how to
clean up the mess of pained silence...
Leah Carr Aug 2021
Gut-wrenching screams hammer against my tender eardrums
Tearing through me
Pulling me apart
I cant distinguish between blood and tears
The screaming gets louder
And louder
And more agonising
Until I can focus on nothing but the pain
Somehow translated into sound
Who is this?
Why are her screams so fearful and piercing?
Who has hurt her so that she must express herself in this way?
But then I realise:
I am the one screaming.
FiguringItOut Jul 2021
People Pass
(A poem inspired by The Scream by Edvard Munch)

People pass
They don’t see the pain I’m in
A guy in the street just like them with problems no bigger than theirs
My internal struggle is waiting to burst but nobody cares
The bridge I’m on acts as a platform for my escape
A jumping off point into the watery landscape
No problems at the bottom of the river
Freedom so close I almost shiver
Even one smile may change the tide
But people are busy
I cry for help with my mouth open wide
But they continue their stride as if to push me aside so I’ll fall over
Into my aquatic enclosure
My hands are glued to my face as if to hold my untamed mind in place
Can’t pull them apart
If only I could restart
My knees bend without my command
My body flies through the air like a plane unmanned
Within a second I feel the cold start at me feet
I fall further until my descent is complete
Looking up at a world turned to aquamarine
It’s finally quiet
This place is serine
The struggle stops
The last bubble to the surface pops
My vison fades
The nightmare of feeling, a forgotten haze
Wrote this for a class a few years ago where we had to come up with a poem inspired by a famous painting.
I want to scream
At the little things
That stop me
From being near
Those that I love
funny how its the 'little things' that everybody relates to, even though it can be interpreted in so many ways to so many people
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