Hope Oct 29

I've been asking the sun
to tell me where I went wrong

I've been counting every star
to show me where I belong

I've been looking at the sky
for somewhere to call home

but it always just rains on me
and leaves me on my own

Groggy and hungover
Pounding in her head
Aggravated by the gull screeching
Lulu….. Lulu
They call her girlhood name

Same each morning
Get used to it all over again
Grappling with her self-pity and disgust
Dead weight
She can’t not hold herself back

She’s seen so much worse, in the day
Bellies torn open, guts strewn
Limbs twisted like contortionists
Heartbreakingly graceful
Rotting, swollen faces she dreams of

A man, mummified
Head held up
Sucking from a bloody straw
Invisible man
What did that soul see when the bandages came off

Welcome to the final decline
Still got her mind, probably
Not sure what she wants to lose first
The inevitable slide
Unfit for the task

It’s her own fault
They were her choices
But where could she have gone right
What had she to do- what she had to do
That’s all over, done, and gone now

Bloodbaths and blow-ups
She’d forgotten safety
Her ground still shakes
Run for cover
Still, everyday, everytime

Why her not them
Why them not her
How dumb is God
“Survivors guilt”
But the doctors know nothing

Solitude made for her
Broken way too much
Why can’t they let her be
Isolation… fight that war
Wrong choice then and no choice now

Desolate in disrepair
She’s in ruins more than it
The house leans in around her
They’re a good fit
It works on its own

Devil or angel
She has it back
The original vice
Good thing she’s all alone

She doesn’t know
Doesn’t want to remember
Distance and isolate
Intimacy out of the question

She’s useless anyway
What good is left
Where has hope gone?
Bloodbaths take lovebeds

She struggled
She fought
Stalemates rule
Why must she live

Good and right
Evils be gone
War is blinding
Wipe away schoolgirls

Why have hope
Why bother with love
Nothing gold can stay
Why fight a victorless war

This is about a woman struggling to recover from her experiences in WWII. She describes her morning routine in the present while flashing back to the past.
Lucky Sep 8

Can I, just one more time visit your bedroom window as an intoxicated Romeo.
I will perform my love verses that I have written on beer mats throughout the night.
Let me dance for you under the streetlights of hazelton drive.
So sorry for wearing white, did not mean to be stained with the blood of window pane knuckles.

I am always fighting
Never truly winning
But breathing each day
and waiting for the next.
Fighting myself
And my thoughts.
Lies that run so deep
They become the truth to me.
Each day
A never ending battle
To feel
And to breath
But I put a smile on
Because depression
Isn't me.

Nicole Eden Aug 16

when the anxiety hits
i used to sit there letting it consume me
i refuse to let it consume me now
i write
i write because I know I am heard
by someone
i am not alone
anxiety does not own me or you
we decide if we want it to consume us
or if we want to fight it

stay strong
Belle Aug 16

How does the world expect you not to kill yourself?
I do not understand why we are put on this earth.
We are born and we already have expectations put into us, then we are put into school by the age of four.
Forced to stand in line like some militia.
We get 30 minutes of free time then are summoned by a whistle and teachers go down checking to make sure we are all aligned.
Tell me how that sounds moral!
We are in school for another 14 years after that, and it just gets harder.
Soon, teachers start choosing favorites and start telling you that you're not good enough, smart enough, or quick enough. You try to do a sport you love only to be told "somebody else was better."
Your friends start to leave you to go join a different group of friends and all you get is a subtle wave and half smile as you walk down the hallway.
You graduate high school and move onto college.
Another four years of school.
Maybe nursing, maybe education, maybe psychology.
Whatever it is it's preparing you for a job that you have to have the rest of your life.
You don't get to have fun everyday.
You have to work, and though they say "the right job is fun." The right job is stressful. The right job is hard. The right job is still a daily struggle. The right job is still a constant battle!
Why were we put on this earth only to continue working, and making our life into one big unhappy nightmare?
Yet, when someone say they want to kill themselves, everyone replies, "oh but the world is so wonderful."

Mary Zollars Aug 13

Embers burn in a flash of light
Flying through the night
Flamboyant flames dancing
Dancing, it's the demon
The demon who follows me
Stares at me with its intense eyes
Flailing it's arms, taunting me
Taunting me in a provoking manner
Provoking me
Shoving me reaching
Holding me up by my shirt
My chest, infecting my lungs
Gripping me so tightly in its arms
Escape, I must escape I must
I must fight it
Quietly, without a word nor cry
Glaring intensely, infuriating
Fighting a battle that will go unsaid
Untold, unheard of, a tale with no writing
Battling and scarring each other
Determined to win, to defeat
To kill
We are determined to kill
One must die for the other to live
To live and grow, for our beauty to show
We must fight.
We must fight without sound
Without word of mouth nor page
Fight till one is gone
Kill so one can leave

I started with it being about asthma, but it took a darker turn to it.
Silverflame Jul 17

i scraped my knees in the
realms of time
i don't know where to hide
under the willow tree
to find and harvest
the new moon
a cracked ceiling blinks
with long lashes
my long lost friend is
still ice cold
it is not yet spring

greet my reflection if
i go too long
without smiling

a transparent person
it looks a lot like

I turn my weird dreams into weird poetry.
neko-nae Jul 6

it hurts
and I chew my lips
until they’re gone,

though that’s what
lipstick is for,

to press to your
collarbone and hope
it’s enough,

am I ever enough–

this dull pounding in my chest,
gets heavier, harder
so I reach out to you

I hope the demons
will accept me,
allow the gifts I bring
to reside deep within
your chest, like the bones
of your ribcage
but they blanket my words,
reduce my efforts to cinders

like the day she left me
all alone,

always alone–



Depression is a demon best fought with heart.
Tina Jul 5

Behold! My sorrow storms straight through daylight.
And not on the last stroke of midnight, when demons sleep.
To entangle me with its invisible ropes, ropes tugging me tight.
Twisted, Swooned, crushed, haemorrhaging deep.

Labyrinth of shame, heralding my doom, looming ever close.
Earning waste with each second more, till sudden salvation.
That scarce shall cast upon my dim verse hugely verbose.
Inside this too stagnant a mind flows nothing but indignation.

Malaise made manifest with the profusrness of a poet's pain,
Entitled as imbalanced brain, a fresh sign of insanity.
Idle hours thrown away like confetti and time spent in vain
Narrow words written by young hands but a spirit of mundanity.

Morbid fascinations of mine with this lack of hope.
End so soon as I leave this world, unable to cope.

Next page