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“Will you love the glimmer of dew that shines from the point of my shovel as I bury your body in the forest on the mainland?”
He says as he demands that I terminate the only thing I know I’ve ever loved
-forced abortion
Louise Feb 24
she looked fierce and strong,
more than anyone
i had ever met in my entire life.

her eyes shined, oh so bright.
they looked like all the sunlight
got hidden deep inside of them.

until the very day she killed herself
her eyes were shining, oh so bright.

she always lived with such a passion,
that’s why i still can’t understand
why she didn’t want to be here.

not even after all the years
that were filled with all my tears.

so many questions left unanswered,
so much grief and so much pain
i have never felt the same again.

l. h.
White shirt, grey lining,
Cotton and spandex binding
This skin, to make me feel whole
You can see I'm half-alive,
My demise I fantasise
Your restrictions are a chain on my soul
I know what my needs are,
Despite your laments.
This second skin will see me through
Your baseless arguments

Don't try to explain to me
All the ways I'm due to burn
Because I've seen enough of that
In this world alone
And I should know,
I don't need your help
Your king will march me into **** himself
And I will greet you at those fiery gates
It seems neither of us could rise above our hate
When my people enter, I will greet them all by name
See, our circles hold a special kind of fame

Among the lucky ones,
Blue, pink and white
We'll be torn apart if they see us,
So it's easier to hide
But how do you hide when your disguise
Is a poison, a pain so deep?
An uphill Battle, hauling lead,
Why D'you think so many accept defeat?
Don't deny us our medication
You're causing more asphyxiation
I have but one consolidation:
That this is my problem
And not yours
Kat Jan 14
I have dealt
With various injuries
And mental illnesses
And I've learned
That they are
In many ways

For instance
It is too painful to get out of bed
In the morning
Doesn't matter
If the pain
Is more emotional
Than physical
You won't be able to leave the house
Or see your friends
Or workout at the gym
For a very long time
You can hurt
Even when you don't appear
To be
And you can feel damaged
Long after
The main damage
Has been done
People will ask you
Are you better yet?
And you will wish
With all your heart
That the answer
Wasn't no

Why then
Are sufferers
Of a broken bone
Or a pulled muscle
Taken seriously
Because their injury
Can be seen
On an x-Ray
Or an MRI
While sufferers
Of mental illness
Are treated like they are the ones
At fault
When they are hurting
That they are crazy
Discouraged from asking for help
Because asking for help
Equates to weakness
If you live in my country
You've probably heard the myths:
People with depression are lazy
Anorexia is only for rich white girls
People with schizophrenia are dangerous
OCD is all about being tidy
Self-harm is a cry for attention
The list goes on
And on

I wish
I could tell the societies
That perpetrate these myths
How much they hurt
The ones
Who most need their help
The ones
Who are too afraid
To try therapy
Because they think it will show
They can't deal on their own
The ones
Who are too scared
To get accommodations
At work
Because they are afraid
Of being judged
The ones
Who feel broken
When they don't feel brave
The ones
Who tell people
They are dealing with the pain
Of a sprained ankle
But don't talk about
Their anxiety-filled days
And nightmare-filled nights
I wish I could tell
All the people
Dealing with this  
That they are not alone

I wish
I could change
This narrative
These stereotypes
But I don't have the courage
To talk in detail about my experiences
With anyone
But my closest friends
To correct people
When they make a statement
About depression
Or anxiety
Or eating disorders
Or self harm
Or suicidal thoughts
Without exposing
My own insecurities
To advocate
On a larger level
For people
Who have it much worse
Than I do
I hope
That in the future
I will
But for now
Sharing my poems
Will have to be enough
Toxic yeti Dec 2018
Tough times and life
Ignorance of others
Gifted girl
Medication being taken
Attempted suicide many times
Obassi Bholai Nov 2018
I could tell you more about the hurt
inflicted into us by what we thought was love
and to find it be an inevitable pain
followed by tears that flow off the face
and the guilt that maybe it was out fault.

we NEVER get the love we deserve,
manipulated and programmed the generational stigma
to love one more than yourself and unfulfilling
what we as the human race should've
been instilled with was self love.

too busy lost in the social media haze of
losing yourself into everything that we
forget to love ourselves
forgetting we have to do that before we
can truly love any one person.
Sitting here in class I am today, minding my business as they would say. I’m listening to the teacher teach but hearing only things left beyond my reach. Another whole day in this **** school so I can come out each night 'more-of-a-fool,' and would it behoove them all to know, I ain’t no dummy, no 'coffee-Joe'?

  …but then I’d have to get the chance, the opportunity provided to advance and the equal treatment they all receive that somehow has been lost on me. Why do I even come here? Why does my Mom insist on this? They don’t call on me, care about me, acknowledge me, it’s ridiculous. At lunch each day I gotta use my fists and even my own kind acts wicked, cause for the rest of them fighting is all that exists.

  Exists; having objective reality or being.

  I exist alright; exist if you call this a life, defined by ******, **** and monkey, or related to some ******-actin’ ****** or some dumb brawler or that dude good at running but never ever seen as intelligent and cunning. The girls ignore me, teachers too, white guys hate me, what did I do? What did I ever do to them? I’m just like you, I just want some friends, want the chance in life to succeed, man shut up about being freed that **** happened a hundred and fifty ******* years ago, I’m just as sick of hearing about it as you are 'Bro.'

  They say I have rights, they say that it’s fair, they say there’s a chance for me everywhere, but everywhere I look that’s not what I see, I’m put-down and degraded cons-tant-ly, told that I should join the team, or passed over in conversations about some thing. Forced to be friends with thugs that hate but to them at least I can relate, for just like me they was excluded or marginalized when told that they are deluded; they’ll never make it anyway, never achieve their dreams, never have their say so why even bother when no one cares how you feel, when your dreams in life won’t ever be real, when you end up in the streets and all you got left is to steal, when its still,

“Go back to Africa ******!”

...they say with zeal and the vitriol an violence comport surreal, Helen didn’t hold this secret to reveal nor does rap, truthfully, with these problems deal? Cocooned by stares and ****-sure glares, because your own sports brothers hate your *** and make you just wanna ditch that class, so here I ended up on the streets, hangin' round on my crew’s beats, acting tough, street-cred and clout and there your 'momma-an-sister' out n’ about, while here I am a fresh drop-out and can you guess what?

Here we come to take her purse, I clock your mom’s mouth and shove down your sister but ***** you boy I could’ve done much worse, she could’ve lost her life and come home in a hearse!

  Is this the ****** ya’ll wanted to see? All filled up inside with hatred, cause I was told that I would never make it, from day one got no attention, spent half of high school in afternoon detention, training me for my future as a prison convict yet another sign our society is depraved and sick. Given no chance or help or just some praise, no moments to shine and no Happy Days, he’s just a gang-banger, a **** they say? My actions may be worse than your words assail, and well, that may be me and I may be in jail but here’s something from my Grand Momma, a little encouragement goes a long way to change this drama...

You see me on the street you better ******* run cause you already know what’s in my jacket son and my hoodie will be up so you can’t see my face since I already know what you think of my race.
I guess these are rhyming stories really. I grew up poor in rough neighborhoods and majority-minority schools. This piece is a tribute to tribulations of poor African Americans which I know all too well having grown up in their neighborhoods.
Justyn Huang Oct 2018
When someone makes light of Suicide;
they are processing it.

Sorting trauma, understanding
where and how life can begin
despite the pain; can take many forms.

Because how absurd is it to plant
a flower
where a ***** splits in the sidewalk?

How absurd to label a
Fault line, a Rainbow?

How dare you mark those imperfect
roadways others deem unsafe to travel
with Beauty, Life and Hope!

How dare you decorate those sign posts
with glitter and streamers so others know
where not to travel!

How dare you reach through the Abyss
and pull something out of it, yea how
dare you let others know what's
really there...

I understand, Suicide is not a joke...
Unless we're both still here laughing
As I say, better to be an ***
who kept on cracking
Than the guy who fell through his
own Rainbows;
An explanation as to why people make jokes out of trauma
Broken Arpeggio Sep 2018
An attempt to drown
One's inner demons,
Does nothing more
Than render them
With an ability to swim...
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