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Matilda Aug 12
Morning, day and night,

hopelessly I wonder,

Knowing nothing better?

Facing other fears?

I saw red and I saw silver.

when has blunt steel been useful?

like a wave of light,
there is nothing
there is silence.

then the guilt draws in, tiptoeing silently,
was it worth it?
what had I done?

there are no riddles no games

that was me
or was it me
so I have no idea what I'm doing but if you could give me advice I would appreciate it a lot thanks
Lot Mar 4
Red and white vivid
The colours swirl together
Down the kitchen drain
Anxiety sips from me
as though I’m it’s only bird feeder in the area
Depression eats away at me
as though I can only suffice for half of it's needs
And tonight? It’s hungry as it’s ever been.
Trauma kills me
As if it was an eagle looking for roadkill
Me being the roadkill
Drug abuse nailed me in the head waiting to **** me.
Waiting to **** me due to the fact I've been defeated.
So there they sit, all trying to defeat, the defeated me.

Bite me.
She looked at me and pulled the scissors out of my hands. Her eyes drift towards my arms. She says she never trusted me with anything sharp.

I have serrated edges
I need someone to keep me away from high places
They read my diary pages and look at me like my guts are hanging out
She tells me I'm made of glass and she is getting tired of existing as an ambulance

Sometimes I go out too deep
I put so many holes in the ship I can't believe it didn't sink
A zipper on each wrist,
a body scratched like an old disk.
I needed a life vest
I needed bandages
I needed sutures
I needed stitches

I wound up stranded
in a doctors office
where they asks how bad
it hurt on a scale of 1-10

I came with
THE SADNESS WAZ HERE
etched into my limbs
I scar like tree bark

It doesn't matter
It doesn't matter
The nurses used scotch tape to put me back together
This poem has been inside me for years. I finally spit it out.
If I'm worth the fight,
then I can take a hit.
It isn't whether I win,
it's if I refuse to quit.
That's funny, because just wait,
for about 24 hours.
Where I'll gain the tremors,
but lose uncertain power.
An inner conflict is my battle,
but one I don't think ends.
Should I be authentically useless?
There's a home I could transcend.
I could ascend upon my limits,
I'm a king to every kind of thinking.
I control my darkness,
in the rapid form of blinking.
Open, close, open, close,
My fists could match the sides.
They're knocking on my skull,
of course I'm gonna abide.
I lost purpose when I dropped value,
when nothing stopped me from the pain.
if all I give to the world is anger,
why shouldn't I receive the same??
---------------------------------------------
I relapsed again, I hate myself.
Punched a wall so hard I instantly bruised my knuckles.
Pulled out a patch of my hair.
Made my leg blue from hitting it so hard.
I feel like I deserve this.
And is my thought differing from the truth?
I don't think so.
Keep living, y'all.
I'll do the same.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated.
his rugged eyes tore his soul,
desperate for a break.
He likes the poison it drips off,
more desperate for its intake.
He seems.... hungry..
but it's not only lack of food.
It's the distance he walks between who he is,
and how he's really viewed.
He acts angry, and he is,
but it's at that part he can't obey.
It keeps ripping up his notes,
so that his real words can never stay.
So he doesn't have thoughts of his own,
or a body, and around his neck?
A vial that keeps getting tighter,
seeping chemicals within to cause regret-
i haven't been on here in FOREVER so I'm sorry, lol. I relapsed and these last few weeks have been tough, to the point where I couldn't write without getting really low inside my head. Anyway, i appreciate all the support I've been getting
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
His melancholy eyes,
Didn't settle for the world.
His bittersweet heart,
Was never caught by any girl.
He's nostalgic for content,
Doleful hands strain to attain,
Whatever he tends to lack,
From inside those frosted panes.
He doesn't leave his room.
The window sill calms down his brain,
Knowing any moment he could jump,
To feel something upon his frame.
He's sad and unwilling,
Given strength when he loses control.
Each loss of rein will cut a rope,
To which untethered his varied soul-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
It's a constant battle.
I'm finding shells on my floor,
and a flood of defeat.
They got me again.
They tore up my flag;
and flattened my heart that scoped out nonsense.
I'm getting into fist fights with the mirror.
This world doesn't matter to me.
My bleeding nose and horrid mind are too naive for you to think that I am free;
breaching a shadow too small to cover me.
Mediums hover me,
and you call to connect with me.
Against my brain;
and induced will.
Against reality to assist a thrill-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
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