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Sarah Oct 2018
I wish I knew how to take ink to paper
Before I took blade to skin
But sometimes I just feel nothing
So that's what write
Shadow Oct 2018
Who could love someone
Who beats themselves up
Who can be friends with
A shadow of themselves
Who is capable to see
Right through my walls
Why would anyone be
Friends with a weakling
A person who can't take
The hurt but only brings
It to her character her
Heart that breaks every time
Who could love someone who's
Broken every time she looks
Strong but in her eyes
She is not she is a shadow
Who can be friends with
Someone who is now
A weak person not strong
Towards herself but strong
To others in her friend group
Who knows the truth behind
Her smile behind her laughter
Who takes the time to get
To know her even if
She is tainted with hatred
Hatred of herself being
Vulnerable to people
Who can see through
My walls that I'm not
Fine that I'm falling apart
Who can see through my
White lies to protect myself
Who sees the reason
To be friends with me
A shadow of my former self
Why would anyone be friends
With a too sensitive deep person
I am only strong enough to
Be the person you want
Amy Duckworth Sep 2018
Sad people
Always try and make
other people happy
because
they
know
how
terrible
it is
to feel
worthless
Nina Sep 2018
What is love?

If you dont even feel it from your own family.

Is it your fault?
For turning into a brat?
When you don't even know what you're suppose to turn out like.

You're just and will always be a disappointment.
No matter how hard you try to be better,
You will still be A failure
Nothing but a worthless *******.
Perri Sep 2018
Other men look
with interest and intrigue
while I walk behind you,
small,
as you take lead

I look them in the eyes
hoping they sense the hurt in me,
seeing my distress,
praying they will come set me free

So as I walk in your shadow
shameful
and unimportantly
I'm hopeful
my worth
will shine
for all the others to see
~
Oliver Sep 2018
I am a stranger
From the outside looking in
I’m trying
I’m trying to be here
But no matter how I try
I’m still not inside

I am a nobody
Invisible to those who are close
I’m trying
I’m trying to be a part
But no matter how I try
I’m still overlooked and forgotten

I am nothing
Meaningless to everyone
I’m trying
I’m trying to mean something
But no matter how I try
I’ll always be worthless
Blade Maiden Sep 2018

I know of
this exact thing I do
pushing people away from me
when I can't hide my insecurity
I say "am I wrong, I'm scared"
just to make them run away from me

I met so many
so careless
I'm sorry
So sorry
I have to be honest

My view is always a blur
constantly making me believe
in wrong ideas
my mind loves to perceive

And seeing how
sometimes they come true
against better judgement
I followed through
It makes me look like a fool
So what is there for me to do
than to think the same of you

"Get over it, we all hurt"
"Try to forget, don't be absurd"
"Maybe stop being so emotional"
"You could be more sociable"
If I could say how desperately I would
if there was a way to show I could
I thought being unapologetic
would be better than feeling pathetic
But it seems like either way
I'm the one that drifts away
Into this ocean of sickness
making me feel worthless

Though these thoughts
I hate the most
I fight feeling useless
I want to know my worth

Oh how I struggle to make them see
I'm not the words that come out of me
I don't want to feel anxious
I don't like to be sad
And I feel so pretentious
it might drive me mad

And how this thought
of losing my mind
sometimes seems
way too kind
Like such a relief
of a brain always screaming
almost a sort of dignity I could retrieve
thinking madness could be redeeming
Calming but terrifying all the same
For the bliss
would I really not care
to forget my own name?
James Sep 2018
I was told (once) that if I could only make up a perfect story, that, that woman, who stole almost everything from men, would fall for me; would, maybe destroy me and leave me for dead. Would, maybe, ship me off without my pen and belt, and force me to paint her with no training. She’d want something that resembles something by Claude Monet; Do you know how difficult that is? That’s the fun though; she’d cut me off so many times; she’d remind me how many others could paint better; she’d explain, in beautiful detail, just how useless my hands were. Well, I hope she’s satisfied with my work; I’m sorry I finished early; I’m really no man; Goodnight, goodnight, I hope you’re sleeping; so I can finally leave.
Love
***
Nothing
Boats
Love Again
Nothing Again
Worthless empty hands
God
Unknown Sep 2018
who am i?
what am i?
Do I really exist?
What form of life Do I have here?
Is my identity really determined by my actions?
If so, that makes me someone who'd rather write than live.
But is that all i am?

I am creative and self-destructive
naturally skilled and unproductive.
I am fragile yet tough as a man,
struggle thru life with no real plan.

As each day passes I can feel it,
I'm slowly losing a part of my identity.

My friends are all screaming;
"who are you!?!"
"is your mask anything like you!?!"

My head is hurting,
I don’t know how it’s still on.
I'm still aching,
After all the breaking that has been done.



© Copyright Tyler Atherton
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