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wren Jul 16
i just wish i could know the me that everyone else sees.
i wanna see the me that people see as a safe space,
the me that people look up to,
the me that people fall in love with.

i want to see someone i wouldn’t hate every time i go to wash my face and see myself in the mirror.
the one who doesn’t cry every night.
the one who sleeps.

i wanna see the beautiful person i hear so much about.
until i get to actually see that me, everything good i hear about me is a lie
Evangeline Jun 29
With your mighty sting
And your body small but toxic
Like death itself
Little Scorpion,
Are you happy?

With your soft exoskeleton
And your blood that runs like fire,
Burning like Troy and the libraries of Alexandria,
Little Scorpion,
Are you happy?

Have the sands of the desert,
Ardent like the forge of Prometheus,
Burned your legs
And waged wars with your claws?

Have the dunes
Consumed you yet?

Little Scorpion,
Are you happy?
Pulse May 24
i wish my body wouldn't fail me;
limbs tensing and refusing to respond to my commands,
lungs suddenly unable to draw air,
heart pounding with such intensity it leaves my body shuddering,
or maybe the trembling is just because you're sitting too close and it makes me want to puke.

i feel as solid as air,
and as sturdy as a china doll that's already fallen to the ground a thousand times,
and come out of it as little more than dust and waning hope

the disconnect between my body and my mind widens every day that goes by until i don't know who i am anymore or who's body i inhabit.
there's no one home and you might as well have killed me the first night, because it would have been so much kinder.
Do I know myself?
This girl with her doe eyes
And blonde hair;
She might have a lot going on.
Otherwise, she might be a liar--
After all this time,
Still convinced she’s never committed
A crime against another person’s heart.
Who really knows
What damage a girl has done?
She doesn’t even remember.
She takes everyone’s word for it,
And the whole world says
There’s nothing wrong.

Those eyes,
They are baby blues
That sing the blues.
Boy, does she look sad.
Not a week goes by
That she doesn’t waste by counting
The number of eyelashes
That fall out of her little head--
Two at a time
Yet as gradually as running out of time.
At night she pleads for excitement
That doesn’t entail
That deer-in-the-headlights feeling.

Has a funny way of creeping up.
It’s like there are two magnets,
And she is both.
The “wrong” side of one magnet
Yearns for the “wrong” side
Of the other magnet,
Yet they push each other away.
Likewise, she pushes herself apart.

She’s also learned that
Stuff you’re afraid to do
Happens anyway,
Like the “right” side of the magnet
Sticking to the aforementioned “wrong” side
Of the other magnet.
Things come together
When you do as you please--
It feels so wrong to let opposites attract,
But it is oh-so-right.
She needs to realize
she is not Jekyll and Hyde.

Wrongness is relative anyway--
Those eyes may seem too dark
Or too green
Or too gray
To a different person--
As for me, how I love them so.

When she bats her lashes
I can only imagine
They sound like a bat’s wings;
A rush of air beneath
Every rise and fall,
Heard only by the keenest ears.
But this memory doesn’t have
the same power as an act of self-loathing
Nor that deer-in-the-headlights feeling.
In my reflection,
She bats her lashes
but I still drown in hatred
For those stupid, doe eyes.

My heart has built a factory
Whose main exports are
Fallacies that have a dreadful way
Of creeping up
Behind my every thought and word,
Their paws locked in the snow,
Poised for a one-on-one battle
With Sanity.

I look in the mirror and think,
Boy, does she look angry.
Not a year goes by
Without some sort of inner vandalism.
She joins a stampede,
Runs without stopping
By the river to drink.
It tramples every blade of love left in her.
It crashes every flower she grows
So that she will never see
The beauty she bestows upon the world.
When she finally does stop by the river to drink,
And the bucks continue to run through it,
Her reflection is distorted.
The doe doesn’t wait for the water to
Become still again.

I call her Jane Doe
Because she doesn’t remember who she is,
And because her doe eyes
Are the only thing about her
That isn’t like a blank canvas.
Sometimes when she looks at me
I can only see my reflection;
We become one as we are meant to be.
I paint my body with compliments.
I can see myself
Draw lines across my skin.
There was a time when I pressed too hard
And the lines scabbed over.

But I am forgiven,
Because wrongness is relative
And when I envision myself,
This is what I wish I could see:
A mix of positive and negative,
Both sides of the magnet--
Never repelling each other,
Attracting one another--
A field of anger, of blues
Of lashes and bats’ wings
Of one-on-one battles
Of scabs, of humor,
Of crime against the heart,
Of no more time left to restart
Of irregular rhyme-schemes
And unfamiliarity

I don’t know myself,
This girl with her doe eyes--
This girl with her green eyes--
Or are they blue?
Or gray?
Or black?
Or brown?
I bat my lashes and I drown.
Luna Jun 3
I want to be your
mirror so that you can see
yourself like I do
Cole Maxwell Apr 2
Hi, my name is Cole.
Grab a shovel and we'll deepen the hole where I've buried my goals.
They try to blame my soul for the peril untold,
Though, great fortune most of their lives do hold.
Molded after my father I was destined to be cold.
Alone, broken, I folded.
Unspoken moments in silence are just like King Midas,
The opportunity’s gold, but there's still violence way down, deep inside us.
When tribulations unfold, so does my situation.
Find me by myself, impatient,
On a narcotic vacation, wasted.
Taste the medicine I force upon myself on a daily basis.
This explanation only strengthens my self esteem’s annihilation,
So pray damnation is what I need to keep some kind of exhilaration.
Drawn away from elation, I take the bait and go on strike against my ****** up creation.
When I was 15, the world ended around me,
Cops and medics abounding,
The sight surrounding my plight, pathetic,
Regret was surmounting.
Twelve scars on my throat, they said the odds were astounding I made it, but who's counting?
(Plus the one on my stomach where the blood geyser was spouting)
Like intimate sentiments, death attached to me,
I learned how to live with it.
There was a time that this soul had a temple, now, just a tenement.
The second time I played God I succeeded in my ill intent,
Pronounced dead at the scene, my funeral was finally imminent.
Til I opened my eyes and the room was one I'm familiar with.
I was sure eleven Ambien would work for my benefit.
Why am I being kept alive?
It's like there's no possible end to it.
Multiple reasons as to why I am so sick of this living ****.
It's a given: derision and treason purged me of innocence.
I'm immersed in this intricate curse,
Coerced into impotence.
Teasin’ hearses became a profession,
Hurting became obsession,
Depression’s the path I traversed,
Along with aggression.
So you may have a few questions concerning
The wrath I possess.
And when I rise from the ash like Sylvia Plath I'll confess.  
When I emerge from disguise, the sociopath will profess
The explanation for suicide, and the urge to regress.
Arduino Mar 11
I hate the rain
It creates puddles and forces me to see my reflection

My head tends to hang low, eyelids carrying the weight of my regrets..
Head in smoke clouds from burning forests
Thunder in my mind, lighting the dark with it's temporary rumble and powering the deprecation machines

ah yes the DMs

Whirlwinds pick up old headlines
Tumbling and rolling inside my head

What's new, tell me something different

I hold a forbidden box

Don't look inside or I might be embarrassed

Don't look inside or you might be annoyed

You might be scared
You might feel uncomfortable
You might like it

But this box is supposed to remain shut.

It's had enough rain inside it
And you shouldn't have to swim in this ocean of misery

I tried to build a floating home from these broken pieces

But it's just too much

You'd be better off getting in a makeshift ship and manually paddling away

Who could blame you

This island is remote for a reason

Covered in land mines and emotional traps

Don't get caught, lest you flood this small patch of ground further

My lips barely touch the surface

I long for that kiss, help me breath again
Arduino Mar 11
These seeds have taken me to an empty plot hole
A shattered *** bleeds where it's been swallowed
By the earth, so barren, scarred and mismanaged
Showing evidence of struggles and miscarriage
Dead trees left to crawl and sink
Crumble and stress the pressure pressed enough to turn them to ink
Dipped with the end of a quill taken from a broken wing
Used to write a suicide note you can harmonize and sing
And get a whole group in sync with you
Sit around a broken heart and have them think with you
Analyze every vein that turned dark and pumped pain
Wear your grief like a shirt and become the blood stain
Now get up off of that shelf
You're like a broken mirror when you look at yourself
You bonsai, your wilted branches weep
Discolored flowers, dead roots planted deep, just go to sleep
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