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You’re not fully healed
but you’re not still broken.
With every passing sunrise,
your soul earns another token.

You choose to keep going
when all you wanted was to quit,
and look how far you’ve come
from when your heart was severely split.

The light at the end of
your tunnel gets brighter every day.
Thank you for putting down the pills,
the knife, or the gun and choosing to stay.
Shout out to everyone who chose to keep fighting those inner demons.
It flashes
Flashes flashes and flashes
It always has and always will
It cares not for it's creator
Nor it's destroyer
As long as its here
It flashes
Flash
Flash
Flash
On
Off
On
Off

On


Off



on




off
Oh, but life goes on, does it not?
mXc Jun 10
I stopped
I feel hopeless
I feel emptiness
I feel like its the end
Yeah I stopped
But Because
I wanna take away everything,
every thoughts, every pain, every tears that kept
I am tired of everything and for everyone,
I want to rest...
that's the point.
I want rest.
Stand & Fight again.
it's okay not to be okay. just rest and after fight
Melanie May 3
Trigger Warning: Self Harm*

The stencil is made, a bold, yet simple
mark with two meanings. For writers,
the mark is used to continue a sentence;
for others, the mark is used to continue a life.

The Golden Dragon Tattoo Parlor smells faintly of bleach.
Pictures of art and family cover the walls, a shelf full of trophies
shining under the fluorescent lights. Drawers with individually
wrapped needles and ink pots line the back wall.

The buzzing of tattoo guns overpowers grunge music,
voices of other customers overpowering the buzzing.
It only hurts a little bit, my artist tries reassuring me,
but his stories of drugs and arrests only worry me more.

Holding my breath I climb up on the black leather chair.
My shaking nerves show through my splotchy, tear stained face.
I clench my fists, embedding my nails into my palms.
The cluster of needles are hovering over my arm,
preparing to mark a permanent goodbye to the past;

Goodbye to the 10 PM moments, shooting up from bed
sweating, crying, my hand on my chest, feeling my heart
beating ba dump ba dump ba dump ba dump.
Sliding down to the floor to let the linoleum cool me.

Goodbye to the 12 AM moments, curled up on cold tiles.
Razor in my hand marking a tally for every flaw,
every mistake every bad thought I point out.
Short, fat, clingy, shy.

Goodbye to the 2 AM moments, plastering my thigh and
wrist with bandaids, later choosing to trade T-shirts
and shorts with long sleeves and jeans.
80 degrees won't stop me from covering everything.

The tears are there, not from pain
but from the familiar rush of adrenaline.
The sensation of feeling something other
than worthlessness and self-doubt.

A semicolon has two meanings;
continuing a sentence,
or continuing a life.
This poem has been submitted to Telluride Institute's Fischer Prize poetry contest.
mXc Feb 28
---
If suicide is not a sin.
I might not be writing this now.
suicide
Semicolon Oct 2018
Have you ever seen a sunflower reaching out to the sun, following him wherever he goes?

Or an evening water lily shying away and blushing under her lovely pink at all times when the sun is in the sky?

Have you ever seen a dandelion break herself into countless little pieces and fly away to places unbeknownst, just to make herself full again?

Have you ever seen a rose, apprehensive of what might destroy him, guarding himself with numerous thorns, yet so beautiful that you can’t help but ignore his thorns?

Have you ever seen daisies growing through the cracks in the sidewalk, reminding you to look for beauty even when you can’t?

Have you ever seen flowers? Then you have seen love; for flowers are nothing, but love.
"Flowers are love's truest language"
– Søren Kierkegaard

© Semicolon
Semicolon Sep 2018
Dawn adorns the sky,
Golden drops of sun ooze through
my window quietly.
The dawn is beautiful, isn't it?

© Semicolon
Semicolon Sep 2018
The dark silently crawled into the dimly lit corridors, the cabins, and my boss's ***** mind.
The cold breeze gently and mercilessly caressed my shoulders, and my boss my *******.
I shivered from my head till toe, while his greedy gaze scanned me, from my head till toe.
The off-key beeping of a distant computer troubled my ears, and so did his hungry voice.
My incomplete files presented a pretty sight in front of his hands piercing through my self esteem.
Per his routine, he'd played all what he wanted with my body, and left it there to perish.
Next day in the meeting he tells his employees, "this office is your temple."
"Sure," I whisper.
"There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds."
-Laurell K. Hamilton

©Semicolon
Semicolon Sep 2018
I was healing,
The wounds were healing,
The tears had stopped,
The demons had fallen to sleep,
The blood had dried up,
So had the pillows,
I was healing.
But then,
I picked at the scabs,
And I bled again,
And it left behind
A scar.
I was healing,
But now I can't.
I was healing,
But now I have scars.
I was healing,
But not anymore.
The wound healed and closed up, but the scar remained.

©Semicolon
Semicolon Sep 2018
And maybe,
I wrote your name
On my heart
In pen
Which is why
I can't erase it.
I remember how you used to be such a big part of my life,
And now you're just gone.
We were meant to be burning bright,
And now we've been incinerated to ashes.
This is not how we planned it, is it?
Oh, now I know why they say
It's all so unpredictable.

©Semicolon
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