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Elisabeth Sep 2018
Not one true

Just a guise  

Bid adieu  

To her flies



A self sentence,

Or so they said.

With no defense,

Dracula took her head.
Elisabeth Sep 2018
She is brutal.

She will tear my skin,

Bruise my knees,

And blacken my eyes.



But she is also a gentle dove

And she can be kind.

When I succeed she gives me sweets

And gives back my missing pieces.



She is my mistress.

Her’s is the name on my collar,

She has the lead.

And she keeps control until she hands me off to him.



Though I know him not,

He will heal my body.

Let me have the control,

And finally give me peace.
Elisabeth Sep 2018
I see your gaze tunneled blurry

I know you only see my face as painted with a sharpie  

And see me as your dolly

Because I’m not real I’m just your pretty plastic body!

Ready to play whenever you demand Harvey.

Your ugly plastic words fall upon deaf plastic ears- but sure it’s a party!  

Underneath I scream and fight to stay sturdy.

I am not your dolly!

I am not just your pretty plastic body!



And I would not ‘look so pretty wearing this red lipstick with my lips wrapped around your ****,’ Harvey.
Elisabeth Sep 2018
A mirror reflects harsher words than I’ve ever heard,
Even if they’re slurred.

These words say they won’t grieve,
Won’t care if I leave.

I go after my veins looking to bleed
Maybe then I can be freed.

These voices continue to come in a flood-
Maybe I can escape with my blood.

I can hear them no matter how much I scream and shout
Maybe another sting will draw them out

Another sting and I’ll feel something else.
Maybe then I’ll feel my pulse.

Another sting and maybe it will mask the sting of my own words...
Elisabeth Sep 2018
Numb spreads through your veins.

Spreading like ice on the surface of a fast freezing lake.

You are becoming frozen, hypothermic.

Immobile like the mannequins in the shop windows.

Your fingers and toes tingle, and your throat is paralyzed.

Eyes transfixed by a hypnotist.

Glossy, like all the rest unmoving, empty behind the glaze.

Your head lulls to the side, a puppet done with the show.

Water beats at your shell, yelping yearning for your thoughts.

Your brain has flown away, back to its own fairy-tale, leaving your corpse behind.
Ray Ross Sep 2018
I was drunk last night.
I made a sandwich at one in the morning
I hated the feeling of alcohol
Burning in my stomach,
But I was drunk last night,
I was alone.
I remembered how
I stood on the edge of the cliff,
I had no fear that time,
Because if I'd died, I wouldn't care.
The way my arm was torn and split,
So I could prove that I still feel,
I wasn't drunk then.
But I was drunk last night.
I wrote poetry about wristwatches
And watched music videos
Until I passed out in this bed.
I don't know why I did it.
But I feel sick today.
D Baby Bey Aug 2018
fingers trace
the raised skin on my scarred wrist.
they stop at the sign of my pulse.
i’m going to finish what i’ve started.
i won’t **** it up, i've come so close.
everything is numb.
i hardly felt it this time.
is this what it's like?
to have no future...
time goes on regardless.
think of it,
everything that i am
will only be a memory someday.

...good...
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