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Max Mar 2019
The bottle has a lot of words
Like a flock of flightless birds.

It tells me not to exceed two
Just like my friends telling me not to exceed heartbreaks from you.

You tell me to take eleven
So that I wont go to heaven.

But I ended up taking thirteen
So that my vision turned green.

I started getting dizzy
And the world was going fizzy.

Which way was up, and which way was down?
My vision started turning brown.

My stomach started to ache
My mind started to break.

The tears kept falling
And i kept bawling.

The ground was so cold as I laid there waiting for oblivion
I felt like I was done.

I couldn't handle the colours no more
so I shut the door.

I laid on my bed looking at the clock
And glanced at the door lock.

I shut my eyes calmly
As my arms rested near me.

The clock struck one
And I was done.
Theres probably a lot of spelling errors
kmr Jan 2019
I sit on the rooftop
Not two feet away from the edge.
Not two feet away from a release
So sweet
I can taste candy
On my tongue.
From the Siren’s song
Playing in my head
So clearly
That I hum along.
I feel temptation’s kiss
On my lips –
So soft
Softer than any man before.
But even as I look down
At the concrete and grass below
That beckons me closer
Into their warm embrace –
I turn away.
Because the unknown
After that leap
Terrifies me more
Than tomorrow
Or the day after that.
This may be a little triggering for some people, I appologize if it is.
Chris Calkins Jan 2019
i am broken
like a carousel off its axis;
because I have to figure out how to fix this
shattered mind
with no blueprints for what a stable one looks like;
in a world that shoves happiness and recovery
down my throat anyway;
who lives only for the sake of others
those who mistakenly believe i can be saved;
because for all that i feel
none of those emotions touch me
deep enough to pull me out of this void
i'm living in.
i am.
and already dead inside.
I have journal prompts given to me by my therapist and the first was, "Who am I?"
Hannah Sep 2018
i woke up sad,
wondering when will i be glad?
i saw a blade,
i cut, hoping scars will fade,

i wish i could be happy,
but i feel so ugly,
having depression is not fine,
people seeing your scars feels like
you've committed a crime,

people asking if im okay,
of course i will smile and say im okay,
people trying to help me,
******* sake, stop pretending, oh gee

i am smoking and cutting,
hoping one day i would be dying,
everytime i close my eyes,
hoping sadness flies,

i feel so alone,
all i do is frown,
everyone left,
save me from my self;
i made this poem years ago.
Nylee Apr 2018
Will I find you
in the shadows
looking over me
Will there be you
or it is just the continuation
of recurring hallucination.

It is getting trickier
to place you between
the imaginary and real you
both out to mess around me
your madness is catching me
the shady creature
filling my head space.

Manipulative ways
simply tracking my businesses
connecting into the web
stalking at all time
triggering an all kind

Invading in was easy
but the red light is on
between the scenes
the mask flew away
true colours will come out.

Holes in your plans
aren't as visible to you
the green figures
through the night vision
has come to play too
this exposure to the truth
keeps me sane
you got a new player
in this game.

I am counting the days
waiting for you in the shadows
to watch you
fall into your traps.
JasmineSkye Apr 2018
The knife slid smooth across smoother skin,
A thrilling thing, a winning sting,
Blood bubbling up like syrupy scarlet wine.
Alarm bells felt like fireworks to celebrate the first time,

“That’s dangerous!” the brain screams, eyeing the **** aghast
“It’s exciting.” the body sings, sighing dreamily and relaxing finally,
I’ve found a way out, I think, somewhere between the two.

To bleed is not to die, but certainly it holds the key,
Perhaps someday, some night in the haze of the absence of sleep,
I’ll reach for my razor and cut so deep,
That all there will be left to do is bleed and bleed and bleed
I'm coping, always coping. I don't think the urges will go away, but they don't rule me anymore.
billiondays Mar 2018
today i woke up feeling superly enraged
again, numerous of problems that i have to face
faking smiles, making strong words, so people would trust

today i woke up wishing i wasn't here, in this house
i don't know maybe somewhere else, not with this family
yelled at, cursed upon, always told me i'm lazy as ****

little do they know what i wonder at night
when i'm alone in bed, staring at the ceiling
or even during the day, basically anywhere,
"am i lazy? nah, i get things done, how am i lazy?"

little do they know how thoughts swarm my head
right after what they do and or what they say,
"i need to calm myself, what should i do?"
and then grabbing a laptop or a paper to write

you know, if i was lazy i wouldn't be grabbing anything cause i would just cry or yell at people but then again i'm not as calm as what personality tests describe me: "just like water"
yeah, you mean, "easily wrecked and one touch finishes all"

today i woke up feeling superly energized
energized to work, to do things, positively,
and then it instantly drains me, like sugar rush,
last but not least, energized to ****, who? myself

– billiondays
// 4.28 pm
Chloe Dec 2017
They say that suicide survivors are usually relieved when they don't succeed their attempt.
Some are even happy.
I am not one of those survivors.
I don't like having to explain why I have such deep scars on my wrist;
Or apologize when I slur and stumble over my words when I'm sober because all of the pills that I overdosed on effected my brain.
I don't like having to live with the realization that I'm even a failure at killing myself.
I have to live not seeing a future.
When people ask me where I see myself in ten years, I have to lie.
I make up some stupid, cliché response like "married with kids." or "super rich with my **** together."
When really I'm actually thinking to myself, "I don't see myself anywhere in ten years because I plan to be dead before then."
I may of made it 18, and to 21, and to 23 but I will be ****** if I make it 30.
There is no future for me.
Some slam poetry that might be triggering for some.
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