The greatest war is not fought
on muddy, barren fields.
The greatest war is not fought
behind the meager drywall.
The greatest war is not won
with bloodshed of thousands.
The greatest war if fought
behind my forehead,
in my brain,
with my blood dripping down my arms.
This has a very big trigger warning. I used to self harm, but thankfully i have quit. I do not recognize this as a way to cope. there are better ways to seek help.
What have I done to help those bleeding souls?

Stood here?
Gaped at them?
Been a spectator to
their eyes swelling up
after shedding gallons of tears?
Seen their bodies
wither away
like the happiness in their smile?
Watched their soul
shatter to pieces,
while they tried to fix it

What have I done to help those bleeding souls?

Felt their cold hearts
turn colder?
Lent an ear to
hear their soul weeping?
Promised them
to be by their side,
unlike their hopes and dreams,
which lay broken
on the ground?

Yes I did; I did
stretch out my arm
to clasp their
hands tighter
than their fears and
insecurities; I did
sing lullabies to hush their
anxieties to sleep; I did
stretch out my hand.

But how wrong I was;
I did not realise that–
they never needed the
sympathy I bestowed upon them,
all they needed was–

What have I done to help those bleeding souls?
Back at it again
Knife in hand
But it's not the blood I want
It's the pain
The pain just makes it all go away
It's distracting
It's grounding
It makes me feel like I can control
what's around me;
what's happened to me

What's happened to me?

I don't really care about my past
I just know I don't want a future
The present is such an impossible inbetween
And I'm stuck

This isn't what I want
This isn't what others want for me
But their expectations
Their glances
I just want to go unnoticed
In the dark and in the quiet
Unloved and unwanted
Trigger warning.  I'm so sorry:/
A cancer in my mind
No cure to find
Slit wrists and throats ease my shame
Self sentenced on death row
Yet, happiness is all I ever show
Broken and shattered no one wants to be
So who could possibly want to be around me?

I look and look
For reasons to thrive
All I can see is my dead body among the pines.

She entered my life like a rising sun
All she wanted was some fun
Perfection is all I see
Finally free
Genuine happiness floods my mind
A final end to my eternal find.

Yet, abandonment soon came
The storm returned ravaging my brain
With final hope I told the world my deepest shame.

Locked away in a place of sadness
With patients all claimed to suffer from madness
Yet, in the palace of shame
Brief peace I find once again

They told me to leave us torn apart
I could not heal the scars to my heart
I tried to believe it was the best for me
Yet, the second released I returned to thee
I just need your ecstasy with no fee
But, who could possibly love a fiend?

The tears cluster my eyes
Leaving my happiness eternally blind.

Their is only permanent cure for me
Only to pass on the cancer to the ones that had the burden to care for me
Now, I am nothing but a slave to the hearts that beg me to stay.

So, stuck I am in this eternal sadness
Once again silent towards my pain
With supposed fain
Yet, no doctor ever understands that my silence always whelps
Somebody help.
You can’t see a thing.
No matter how wide you open your eyes,
Or squint in concentration,
You can’t see anything.

You can move,
Yes, you stagger around blindly,
And don’t come into contact with anything.
There is nothing here…
Just darkness.
And you.

That is what it feels like
In your mind,
When you are so depressed
That waking up is like a punch in the stomach.
Because you know you have to get through another day.

Of torture.
Of aching hopelessness.
In a life that you don’t know why you are living.

Has become the main source of pain.
And with a razor in one hand,
And blood running down the other,
You stare at the wound thinking
"I feel nothing."

Blood just becomes a colour,
Wounds just become a place for a bandage.
There is no pain in it.
Because no amount of physical pain can bring you out of the pain in your own head.

You are totally alone.
You scan the bright eyes and alive faces of the people around you.
Look at them,
All on cloud nine,
And they don’t even know it.

They think nothing of smiling,
Of laughing,
They don’t notice the happiness that flows throughout them.

They look at everything they see
Like they WANT to see it.
Like they welcome the light into their eyes.

Every step they take is powerful,
It resonates with the energy that they have,
The will to live in their every stride…
While you cannot lift your foot off the ground.

So tonight,
Like all other nights,
You are on a planet on your own.
A world filled with torment
And trapped in the terrors of your own head.

You might get the skipping rope out of the garden shed,
You might tip pills onto the edge of the sink
And think

You might regret being born,
Or living at all,
Or think "I should have done this a long time ago."

Hang on one second. Please.
What is one second more?
Especially when this second
Could change everything.

That abyss you are stuck in…
You aren’t alone in there.
You can’t see them, but there are others here.

All you have to do is shout out.
Scream for help,
Shout it from the rooftops,
Tell them all "I don’t want to live anymore."

And in a crowd,
One, even just one,
Will push their way to the front,
And hold out their hand,
And say "me too."

A tiny flame of light will appear in the thick darkness
And give you air.
Make you feel like you aren’t drowning…

Wouldn’t that be a nice feeling?

Of COURSE you aren’t alone!
Of COURSE you aren’t the only person in the world that wants out.

But suicide doesn’t end pain.
All it does is pass it on to someone else.

So put the rope back in the shed,
And lock the door.

Tip the pills back in the pot,
And shut the cabinet behind you.

Crawl, if you have to,
Across your floor.
Shed all the tears you never shed.

Scream in hysterics,
All the frustration you swallowed down,
Let it out.

The LOUDER you are,
The less alone you become.

Dial that number.
Maybe it’s 116 123.
There will be a voice at the end of the phone.

It is there to give you a lantern in the darkness.
And soon enough…
The whole world will be lit up…
And you will see light again…
Reaaalllly long poem. If anyone gets to the end of this one, I will be thrilled. I hope it helps someone out there. xx Also, that number is the Samaritans.
Ayanda 1d
She had just come back from another taunting day at school.
She felt numb.
She was so tired. Of everything and everyone.
She undressed and wore the things she felt most comfortable in.
She went to the bathroom and shut the door.
She leaned against the door and slowly fell.
She felt broken.
She cried, as soft as she could so that if anyone was in the house, they wouldn't hear her.
She had hidden her blades under a broken tile.
She took the blade and looked at the blade and thought to herself, "This is for all of you."
This is for all of you who made her feel out of place.
This is for all of you who hurt her.
This is for all of you who made her feel less of a person.
This is for all of you who made her believe that she was ugly.
This is for all of you who made her believe that she wasn't capable of becoming anything. Anything special.
This is for all of you who broke her.
She took her blade and carved the terrible things that you all used to say to her.
"You're so useless." "Can't you just die already?"
She carved deeper and deeper and thought, "Why not end it all now? End all of the pain and suffering."
She took a deep breath in, knowing that it might have been the last breath of her life.
She carved those words deeper into her skin, and fresh blood came pouring out of her wrists.
For once, she did something that made her happy.
She slowly fell into a deep sense of happiness.
Her soul left her body and went where it had always belonged.
Her Mom, who thought everything was alright, who came home from work to a "happy" daughter, was in for a shock.
She checked to see if she was in her bedroom, but she wasn't there.
She then walked to the bathroom.
Her heart broke as she saw her "happy" daughter lying on the floor.
She phoned the ambulance, in hope that she'd still be alive.
She was pronounced dead at 5:53 pm.

The school wasn't the same without her.
Her friends were happy that she was finally gone.
Except for one friend. This had broken her the most.
The people who used to hurt her every day began to regret the things that they had said to her.
They began to regret everything they did to hurt her.
They all killed her. You all killed her.

Her best friend went home early that day.
She searched her house for pills.
She went to her bathroom, sat on the cold floor and thought to herself, "Bestie, this is for you."
She swallowed a handful of pills and her soul left her body to reunite with her sister.

The school wasn't the same without them.
Running around, acting like weirdos.
Everyone began to regret everything terrible that they did that destroyed their innocence.

The two weirdos became ghost buddies.
They did what made them both happy.
They were both finally happy in their new world.
lmao, I know the English and the grammar is terrible. I wrote this last year, during one of the most terrible... "phases" of my life...whatever it was.
Depression is an abyss.
Deep, dark, and filled with pain.
I knew I was never sane.
Will I ever be the same?
No. Not the same as everyone else is.
But the kind of same I was before.

Before all the shit I endured.


It is like I am dying internally.
No one can physically see.

No one can really help.

The cutting, the stabbing, the burning, and the starving.
My heart still technically beats.
But it is not a nice rhythm anymore.
Thumping loud and hard and all over the place.

Drowning in shadows.

Suffocating anxiety.

Is there any calm?
No. It all has gone.
Gone where?
The deep dark abyss.
The deep dark abyss of depression.
They beat me black and blue,
I never got through.
I fake a smile.
It lasts awhile.
I thought I was strong,
But instead I was wrong.
I am wilted by guilt.
I wish I would die.
I am hopeless.
I always feel pain.
Black and Blue.
The shades of my bruises.
I always lose.
Another poem of mine
I've turned my guns to fists
But now i'm fighting
Along with all these other
Mutant kids
Fused at the wrist
Even though you told them
To shoot at this
Our demons are what we're fighting
And we can’t win
Guns for Hands is one of my favorites twenty one pilots songs and it has helped save my life. I love this song I love Tyler's message and I love this bands purpose. This was my reaction to listening to Guns For Hands for the first time.
I looked for a synonym
To scar
And I saw:
A Defect
A disfigurement
A flaw

Because apparently
Our Scars
Are not
Or strength

But I argue
That scars
Tell our story

They show our strength
Our beauty
Appear as victories
In battles
That only you
Know you’re fighting

In every way
Wounds turned white
And plastered
To our skin

A constant reminder
Of where we once were
And where we will
Never be again
Next page