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ivan Nov 2024
she plays her guitar
each note sending me a color
each note sending me a picture
a picture that she holds in her mind

its beautiful
never seen such grace
shes quiet,
only strumming the chords

after she ends, i only look at her
my gaze lovestruck.
and oh, she knows that

she knows shes worth it
but she cant put it on her head.
she sighs.
‘im starting over’
i wish she could see
how much she shines for me<3
Jack Harrell Oct 2024
If I'm an emotional train wreck,
would you be a first responder?

If I die and lay in rest,
would you love me any longer?

I question myself constantly
wondering what I could become.
Should I be more than this,
or finally will I say that I'm done.

I want to quit
I want to stop

But I can't

I have a debt to pay
and a price that will not drop

So I'll keep at it
Until someone want me shot, dead
someone other than me.
I seem to be the only who can see beyond the ******* and lies that I tell
to myself
Every day

You can do it.
Just keep going.
You got this

So like I said,

I'm an emotional train wreck,
but are you my first responder?
i liek trains
Roy3 Oct 2024
i am the one you think is a ****,
when you hear my backstory,
you will forget what you thought,
if i was right...
i cant be right,
present defines a person,
not the past,
at least only when its bad,
so you were right all along,
i sold whats worthy for whats not,
then only ever said,
i onced owned whats better,
but nothing to sow for,
i wouldve never done that,
if what was worthy got me love,
but yet love never came,
it was jusst a hole someone dug for me,
but instead of trying to get out,
i found comfort and rotted away.
Emery Feine Oct 2024
The curtains open once more
And I look into the eyes of the watching crowd
But even after my performance
I never once felt proud

Then I take a bow and walk off stage
I take off my mask, temporarily free
I see someone who I thought would compliment my performance
Yet he doesn't recognize me

I want to do anything else, be a teacher or a politician
But the next day, I'll walk back onto the stage
Everything in my body is telling me to stop
Yet I keep performing for no wage

I wish I was in the wings, like I was years ago
Pretending it was me in the burning spotlight
And I found my peace in the drowning shadows
Yet I wanted to be louder with all my might

When will this show finally end?
I walk on stage with despair I've so long felt
The spotlight causes my skin to burn and melt

The red curtains open fast
Will this time finally be the last?
this is my 84th poem, written on 2/21/24
Emery Feine Oct 2024
I have seen those Golden Seas
And my name burned on someone's tongue
I locked myself out of life with my own keys
And I gasped for the toxic air in my poisoned lung

I must've forgotten who I was supposed to be
I hoped everything would be okay with a bit of luck
Then suddenly I was set free
And once more, I finally woke up.
this is my 83rd poem, written 2/20/24
Vika Sep 2024
Sick of my rotten filth.
Just rip it apart, let me bleed.
If you hate me, rip me open in distaste.
If you love me, rip me open to see.
Emery Feine Sep 2024
I wish I was silent.
Your words wouldn't be so violent
I'll stop seeing red, but a pastel violet
I just wish that I was quiet

I wish I wasn't so loud.
Maybe then you'd be proud
My words wouldn't draw a crowd
If I wished I didn't speak out loud

I wish I didn't always overshare
Spilling embarrassing secrets just so you'd care
So maybe one day I'll finally be aware
And I wish I didn't have to feel this despair

I just wish I wasn't ignored
But I didn't want myself to just be stored
And so that's when I poured and poured
I just wish I could get my reward.

I wish my mouth was sewn shut.
I could walk normally, instead of strut
Thanks for all your punches in the gut
I just wish I stopped talking, and so what?
this was my 29th poem, written on 9/21/23. not my fav.. "I see red" ahh
Aurora Sep 2024
A little blood every day,
As you sit with the blade in your hand,
Scribbles on your skin,
Crying to the bathroom walls.

The writing on my hands—
For all the things I had to get done—
Now smeared with blood.
Now, as I wash my hands, the writing fades—
Nothing’s getting done today.

There’s something about
Cutting deeper and deeper into the same wound,
And the bandage not holding what’s within.
I’ve told the wild stories
About how I got them—
“My cat scratched me.”

But if it means taking away my pain,
For just a few minutes,
I’d do anything.
Even if I have to do it all again tomorrow.
Trigger Warning:- self-harm and emotional distress.
Chelsea Quigley Apr 2024
Hatred,
It runs through my veins.
Cascading through
My body of pain.
Attacking my system,
It alters my brain.
Leaving bitter notes
And thoughts that stain.
And I,
The victim,
Of my own demise.
Unable to love
My own little mind.
Rosie Oct 2021
If I was a friend to myself,
I'd tell me "come over"
and I'd lean out my shoulder.

If I was a friend to myself,
I'd have tissues in both hands
and I'd be kind and understand.

If I was a friend to myself,
I'd take my side for a change
and I'd create a safe haven
where my demons couldn't hang.

But I tell myself I am a failure
for getting so down,
comparisons fill my mind up with sound
I'd never be this tough on anyone else,
So why is it okay to spew
this endless hate to myself?

If I was a friend to myself,
I'd suggest we take a walk
and let the fresh air restore
what we had lost.
I really am my own worst enemy.
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