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#despondence
I’m sorry I got that question wrong. I’m sorry I can't move on. I’m sorry I'm not smarter. I’m sorry I couldn't be stronger. I’m sorry how I take on as much as I can only to ***** it all up. And I’m sorry I couldn't find the man inside my empty cup. I’m sorry I waste my time away trying to find a dreamy way to happiness when of course, there's no such thing. I’m sorry I don't talk much anymore or that I let on how my heart is sore from all the roughness and how it keeps beating without a source. In fact, I must confess, I am dying under boundless stress. Each day my depression attacks, reopening these countless cracks. So many times have I walked this hall feeling so weak and so small, bracing for a final fall just waiting till my lifeline snaps, like any second I’ll collapse, but of course I never do, I know better than that. But if I were to give my final words today, this is exactly what I would say. But that I won't undergo I suppose you’ll never know how sorry I am that there's nothing I’m on top of and for dormantly letting endless piles of work tower above. And how I’m sorry for caring more than I should and letting myself be so consumed. I’m sorry for impeding the impedeless and for hoping in the hopeless. And finally, most especially, I am sorry for wanting to be so important and that I became nothing but torment. I am sorry for wanting so hard to be heard when it's clear I’ll only ever come third. I’m sorry for thinking I could matter or that I could make things better. I am sorry for believing that I could amount to anything at all.
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Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 9:01 PM UTC
Despondence Note
I’m sorry I got that question wrong. I’m sorry I can't move on. I’m sorry I'm not smarter. I’m sorry I couldn't be stronger. I’m sorry how I take on as much as I can only to ***** it all up. And I’m sorry I couldn't find the man inside my empty cup. I’m sorry I waste my time away trying to find a dreamy way to happiness when of course, there's no such thing. I’m sorry I don't talk much anymore or that I let on how my heart is sore from all the roughness and how it keeps beating without a source. In fact, I must confess, I am dying under boundless stress. Each day my depression attacks, reopening these countless cracks. So many times have I walked this hall feeling so weak and so small, bracing for a final fall just waiting till my lifeline snaps, like any second I’ll collapse, but of course I never do, I know better than that. But if I were to give my final words today, this is exactly what I would say. But that I won't undergo I suppose you’ll never know how sorry I am that there's nothing I’m on top of and for dormantly letting endless piles of work tower above. And how I’m sorry for caring more than I should and letting myself be so consumed. I’m sorry for impeding the impedeless and for hoping in the hopeless. And finally, most especially, I am sorry for wanting to be so important and that I became nothing but torment. I am sorry for wanting so hard to be heard when it's clear I’ll only ever come third. I’m sorry for thinking I could matter or that I could make things better. I am sorry for believing that I could amount to anything at all.
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Blank space was left Empty bowl was bereft Occupied mind is what it was Numb heart is what it has Staring Not thinking Surviving Not living Surrendering Everything Surrendering Nothing Alive but dead Covered in red Slowly flowing Losing everything Gaining something Hearing nothing Beats gone It's done Such a relief As the thief Runaway with it Never again you'll meet Willingly You let it be Finally You are free.
0
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 6:33 AM UTC
Free
A white paper Not a single letter Lies in there Lies you cover Heart thumps Foot stomps Nervousness Hide the mess Truth in dark Killed the spark Hope is dead Life ended Secret You kept How long You'll live wrong?
0
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 6:27 AM UTC
Hush
Suffering alone Cracking bones Calling home Wish to have won The past battle Not left with little Little courage Little torn page Little piece of heart Making it hard to start Start a new life Just pull the knife Push until they drop Until the flow stop Silently cry Until eyes are dry Until it's done Until I'm gone Such a fast escape From this world I hate
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Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 12:01 PM UTC
Alone
Understand That I don't want To be known But be understood how I've grown Quiet at times Giving birth to certain rhymes In my head where no one Was there to see no sun Just the demons whispering in my ear Dancing with the rays of my fear How I find solace in darkness And solitude in my peacefulness How my nightmares keep haunting Their promise so enticing Understand that I pretend to be busy To ease the loneliness inside of me That I sleep in the middle of something Cause it's the time my demons are attacking How overthinking envelopes Pushes me to slopes Tightening the ropes Taking away my hopes Suffocating Choking Until I'm drowned in melancholia Until I'm consumed by paranoia Understand That when I say I'm fine I mean I don't want you to bother With me and that I'd rather Deal with this alone Than burden you with my thorns Thorns that chain me Thorns that pain me Then rip me apart Shredding my heart In the process Leaving me lifeless But it's okay It is how I will ever stay Lifeless, motionless, numb Let my body succumb To infinite oblivion Killing my emotion Understand That even I can't understand How I will survive How I will thrive To live and be alive To not dive To continue breathing To stop from writhing With the pain spreading In my body taking Over me Over is me.
0
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 11:58 AM UTC
Unspoken
People never realize, Or recognize, The touch of a broken soul. The despondence, Fear and need, Skilfully masked beneath. Pain never shows, On their poker faces. How battered they still fight, Still live.
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Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 11:54 PM UTC
Still
You're picking at me like scabs of my mistakes Disappointing you is easy; and admittedly- pleasing. We're careening down the mountain and you've cut the brakes. Your medication give you the shakes and I twitch in my sleep Your love is cheap and the wine is sweet and I awake the next morning with a migraine from both. What a gracious host. I'll try to make ends meet and you'll half-heartedly sing me to sleep. We'll do the whole **** thing again on repeat week after week.
0
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
-peatRepeatRe-