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Lostling Feb 6
I might close my eyes
Let darkness consume my world
Please… just take me home
I need a break
Zack Feb 5
Walking into work
Water drips from melted snow
I wish I stayed home
My morning so far
Malia Feb 3
On the windowsill, all flailing
Legs and desperation—
At times, it attempts to fly
Away, but soon enough it gives
That up as if to say,
“I can’t.”

The movements get smaller and
Slower, but occasionally there are bouts
Of hysteria
(𝙒𝙃𝙔 𝙈𝙀)
Until eventually nothing is left but a
Feeble twitch and really the question
That you should be asking is:
“Is it still alive?”

It is still alive.

It is still alive but it is tired.

Slowly…
Slowly…
Slowly…
eventually i just killed it. i couldn’t look at it anymore.
Tye Feb 1
Hooks in my back
Are shredding my flesh.
Stretching me in every direction.
Pulling my spirit through the holes.

Each time I try to fight,
I win back an inch,
Just to get yanked back—
With more pain than before.
Nostalgia Jan 25
I’m so tired.
But I need to be better.
If I am not,
What is the point of doing?
Sia Harms Jan 23
My ankles were sore
From standing on my
Tiptoes,
Trying to ascertain
The words in your eyes.
There were none
For me;
You were guarded,
Your gaze obstinate as
You looked straight
Ahead,
Never wavering or
Crouching down to let
Me see into your
Head.
When will my ankles give out?
would it seem so wrong to disassociate – to sever ties
from those closest to you, who know where to strike,
piercing through your heart? yet, I lay bare my flesh,
offering myself as a service to people, in the most
fleeting of ways. true friends are a rarity nowadays;
my eyes are unaccustomed to pretend; smiling with
practiced ease before their gaze

and I only have a few tears to shed, shielding myself
from the gossip of the rain. my unclean skin gleams
under the sun’s harsh light – I am a million desolate
stars, yearning for a miracle amidst the lull of dreams

as father time offers no gifts to the innocent, mother
nature trembles at the sight of her fragile offspring –
we, the inhuman

and life demands that you work like a machine,
yet a machine cannot be alive. but in a similar sense,
both the machine and I grow tired – so, so very tired
        ...the machine would love to disassociate.
I’m tired

Of trying all the time

Even when surrounded by people

I feel so  a l o n e




A body without a soul

Leave it behind to rest

Let the world carry on

Without me




I listen to the same songs

Over and over again

Because nothing else

Is loud enough to drown out the pain




Oh, to be a kid again

With no need to overthink

To see the light again

Without drowning myself in the kitchen sink




I want to leave behind

This heavy heart

And fly away to my neverland

Living my life inside a hopeless daydream




I want to be held in your arms

As you talk with that calming voice

So I drift off

And fall asleep
I think this was a vent, woopsies
Diya Jawa Jan 18
I’m sick and tired of not being able to show the real me,
Pretending to be ‘she’.
‘She’ who has the perfect body,
‘She’ who can audition for the Kardashians probably.
‘She’ who everyone wants to date,
But then again, ‘she’ who everyone hates.
So it concludes i’m happy that i’m not ‘she’,
But everyone night, in the back of my mind
I wish I wasn’t me.
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