#despressed - Hello Poetry

Its day in day out Lofi Reminding my feelings on how to lie To those around me who care But I hold that dead stare As if I'm imitating how my heart feels Down, dumped, and kick by her high heels Lonely, hurt, forgotten and scared Life's a group project and Death is to whom I'm paired

0

Jun 21, 2019

Jun 21, 2019 at 9:47 PM UTC

lauren-leal

Deadbeat Heart

Its day in day out Lofi Reminding my feelings on how to lie To those around me who care But I hold that dead stare As if I'm imitating how my heart feels Down, dumped, and kick by her high heels Lonely, hurt, forgotten and scared Life's a group project and Death is to whom I'm paired

9

I cut myself again tonight But I will never tell you I wish never to fight I love you dearly, But I do not want Your sorrow and pity. You'll blame yourself, I know you will. I promise I won't **** myself. You have no relation To this dark habit. It is but my own creation. It does not help. I know, I know. Right now, it's living hell.

0

Jan 9, 2018

Jan 9, 2018 at 10:00 AM UTC

marlenek

Cuts

I cut myself again tonight But I will never tell you I wish never to fight I love you dearly, But I do not want Your sorrow and pity. You'll blame yourself, I know you will. I promise I won't **** myself. You have no relation To this dark habit. It is but my own creation. It does not help. I know, I know. Right now, it's living hell.

15

X-acto eighteen Its has been a while Six months now I've been clean Now just back in that aisle Dried brown blood Still remains These feelings flood I can't contain Your sharp edge Tears my skin Now on the edge I cry and grin I feel better now Or so it seems But I can't allow These dark extremes

0

Jan 9, 2018

Jan 9, 2018 at 9:56 AM UTC

marlenek

X-acto No. 18

X-acto eighteen Its has been a while Six months now I've been clean Now just back in that aisle Dried brown blood Still remains These feelings flood I can't contain Your sharp edge Tears my skin Now on the edge I cry and grin I feel better now Or so it seems But I can't allow These dark extremes

16

From the outside, the overwhelming brick structure appears as a haven to heal for the sick, but from within, it serves as a prison, where the sickness terrorizes the inmates doomed here. A bright red cross glows above in the moonlight, appearing as a beacon of hope, despite all those within the structure feeling hopeless. The large glass doors slide open by themselves, welcoming in all who dare to come near. Beyond the glass, white coats rush by in a blur in all different directions, hurrying to serve their independent duties of checking blood pressure, feeding patients, giving baths, monitoring heart rates, and giving medication to the helpless. A heavy metal door swings open to reveal a labyrinth of a hundred overwhelming hallways. The white walls extend for what seems like miles. A fluorescent buzzing light runs along the ceiling to the end of the corridor. The bright hall strains the human eye as it stares into the abyss of the neverending white hallway, illuminated by the blinding lights. The only color emerges at the very end of the passage, where a faint red exit sign glows. It appears as the only escape for those within, but only reveals a staircase to the other hundred halls beyond this one. The sagging eyes of a receptionist light up for a moment at the sight of another living human at this early of an hour, but the excitement is not reciprocated by the other, due to the sorrow of being among these white walls again. The only other creatures she often sees here resemble zombies attached to IV bags, who slowly stumble down the hall to get a taste of the freedom beyond their prison beds. They desire health. They desire happiness. They desire escape. The shoes of the visitor clack across the cold tile, passing by identical rooms filled with dormant bodies on bed rest. Most bodies are told they must only stay a couple of days. But a couple days turn into a couple weeks. A couple weeks turn into a couple months. A couple months can turn into the end of their lives. The visitor wanders in a maze of all the bodies who appear the same, hopeless and trapped they are still. Gray indented chairs from being sat in for too long line against the walls of this boxed in room. The lights are duller here. Waiting. The visitors can finally rest their eyes, they can finally rest their soul. Magazines fall off the wall, unread and unkept for months. The chips stacked in the vending machine taste stale, but still the most delicious dinner available to the visitors who have made these indented chairs their home away from home. The only sound escaping into the hall from the patients rooms are quiet sobs and beeping heart monitors. Among the rooms, the visitors kneel alongside the bed with a rosary in hand. A prayer escapes the lips of the grieving as death dances over the bodies of their loved ones. The bodies are still alive, but the bodies are not living. The rooms are stenched with sorrow, sickness, and sterile. White sheets, white walls, white light. The white fills the rooms, but darkness still looms. Each room reeks of bleach that cleanses the metal instruments and IV stands, while it destroys any sense of humanity for the bodies trapped within. The blinds on the window are shut, keeping out all of the outside world, besides a single beam of moonlight that shines in the only hope left in the darkness of this dull night for the bodies of the alive, but not living.

0

Dec 29, 2017

Dec 29, 2017 at 5:23 PM UTC

shan12

Alive, But Not Quite Living

From the outside, the overwhelming brick structure appears as a haven to heal for the sick, but from within, it serves as a prison, where the sickness terrorizes the inmates doomed here. A bright red cross glows above in the moonlight, appearing as a beacon of hope, despite all those within the structure feeling hopeless. The large glass doors slide open by themselves, welcoming in all who dare to come near. Beyond the glass, white coats rush by in a blur in all different directions, hurrying to serve their independent duties of checking blood pressure, feeding patients, giving baths, monitoring heart rates, and giving medication to the helpless. A heavy metal door swings open to reveal a labyrinth of a hundred overwhelming hallways. The white walls extend for what seems like miles. A fluorescent buzzing light runs along the ceiling to the end of the corridor. The bright hall strains the human eye as it stares into the abyss of the neverending white hallway, illuminated by the blinding lights. The only color emerges at the very end of the passage, where a faint red exit sign glows. It appears as the only escape for those within, but only reveals a staircase to the other hundred halls beyond this one. The sagging eyes of a receptionist light up for a moment at the sight of another living human at this early of an hour, but the excitement is not reciprocated by the other, due to the sorrow of being among these white walls again. The only other creatures she often sees here resemble zombies attached to IV bags, who slowly stumble down the hall to get a taste of the freedom beyond their prison beds. They desire health. They desire happiness. They desire escape. The shoes of the visitor clack across the cold tile, passing by identical rooms filled with dormant bodies on bed rest. Most bodies are told they must only stay a couple of days. But a couple days turn into a couple weeks. A couple weeks turn into a couple months. A couple months can turn into the end of their lives. The visitor wanders in a maze of all the bodies who appear the same, hopeless and trapped they are still. Gray indented chairs from being sat in for too long line against the walls of this boxed in room. The lights are duller here. Waiting. The visitors can finally rest their eyes, they can finally rest their soul. Magazines fall off the wall, unread and unkept for months. The chips stacked in the vending machine taste stale, but still the most delicious dinner available to the visitors who have made these indented chairs their home away from home. The only sound escaping into the hall from the patients rooms are quiet sobs and beeping heart monitors. Among the rooms, the visitors kneel alongside the bed with a rosary in hand. A prayer escapes the lips of the grieving as death dances over the bodies of their loved ones. The bodies are still alive, but the bodies are not living. The rooms are stenched with sorrow, sickness, and sterile. White sheets, white walls, white light. The white fills the rooms, but darkness still looms. Each room reeks of bleach that cleanses the metal instruments and IV stands, while it destroys any sense of humanity for the bodies trapped within. The blinds on the window are shut, keeping out all of the outside world, besides a single beam of moonlight that shines in the only hope left in the darkness of this dull night for the bodies of the alive, but not living.

5

Jeg lever bag lukkede mure Riv mine mure ned Inden jeg forsvinder helt Dybet trækker i mig Jeg er bange for at blive væk i mit indre Her er intet fred Hvis bare jeg kunne skrige det væk Lade verden vide at den er forkert Jeg er en huleboer af natur Benægter min afhængighed af hverdagens luksus Jeg vil hellere end gerne lade mig skylle væk Skylle væk i drømme utopi I illusioner og falske fortællinger Om en verden af rigtige mennesker Riv mine mure ned De bliver tykkere hver eneste dag Jeg lever alene Her er ingen andre end mig og lydløse skrig Den konstante angst De sorte penselstrøg Jeg har mishandlet solen Lugten af morgenangst breder sig Natten har narret mig Søvnen er ovre Riv mine mure ned

0

Jun 7, 2015

Jun 7, 2015 at 2:47 PM UTC

InvisbleMoon

Sorte penselstrøg

Jeg lever bag lukkede mure Riv mine mure ned Inden jeg forsvinder helt Dybet trækker i mig Jeg er bange for at blive væk i mit indre Her er intet fred Hvis bare jeg kunne skrige det væk Lade verden vide at den er forkert Jeg er en huleboer af natur Benægter min afhængighed af hverdagens luksus Jeg vil hellere end gerne lade mig skylle væk Skylle væk i drømme utopi I illusioner og falske fortællinger Om en verden af rigtige mennesker Riv mine mure ned De bliver tykkere hver eneste dag Jeg lever alene Her er ingen andre end mig og lydløse skrig Den konstante angst De sorte penselstrøg Jeg har mishandlet solen Lugten af morgenangst breder sig Natten har narret mig Søvnen er ovre Riv mine mure ned

25

Its 6 am, and the clock on the wall, keeps me awake, makes me aware of time ticking by. My heart broke, a long time ago and i don't think i can ever be whole.

0

Apr 6, 2015

Apr 6, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC

ciske

6 am

Its 6 am, and the clock on the wall, keeps me awake, makes me aware of time ticking by. My heart broke, a long time ago and i don't think i can ever be whole.

11