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#mentalilness
There is a hole in the deep through which darkness does seep far beyond what used to be sane it now goes with no name now hidden, long inside a bunker behind barricades, alone he now hunker his shields worn to the touch laid out for everyone to judge Worn, battered and bruised the future's once again snoozed yet still there is hope that remain for this feeling, he mastered to contain
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Sep 13, 2023
Sep 13, 2023 at 3:52 PM UTC
Hidden hope
i have tiny jars that are shelved perfectly inside my brain from category a to z, sorted by themes, and from one to a hundred —a scale of how painful life is in my repetitive experience. i keep all my memories sealed like a handful of fireflies shoved in a jar that only live for three days; i may forget every scenario with ease but never the dying flicker—the feeling that grow dim in each canister. god, how fragile am i that it only takes a trigger for each glass to combust tragically, good thing i'm the only one who knows how to pull it. i wonder which repressed emotions are going to choke me violently tonight.
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Jul 3, 2023
Jul 3, 2023 at 3:54 PM UTC
grave fireflies
she accepted people’s bad behavior, because she thought, they went through difficult things. yet, she invalidated her own feelings, even if she knew what she went through.
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Apr 17, 2021
Apr 17, 2021 at 7:49 PM UTC
kind girl
i'm sick              of being                              mentally ill        but then                        what would i write about?
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Jan 14, 2020
Jan 14, 2020 at 1:18 PM UTC
untitled.
Whos there Who knocks on this door Is it me the one screaming? Or am I this one laughing? Is that angry person my reflection? But who is now talking then? In one body full of emotions There is no room for me Though we all love and hurt There is no room for me Come and go these dry thoughts Unable to conceive what's inside Let's make peace Let's live together Someday
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Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 7:27 AM UTC
One
I start my day to the early Sun Shining, smiling, warm-hearted sun Then the anxiety crawls through my skin Clawing, calling, peel off dead skin Depression calls just like an old friend Crying, sighing, where are my friends Uncertainty for future begins to set in Worrying, watching, where to begin All I need is a singular cut Slicing, scarring, ruin my streak for what Clean for two years don't want it to end Denying, no crying, it will not end Addiction calls, I turned him away Leave me, feed me, you will go away The abuse of a child is still hurting me 10 years, 20 years, God let it cease Fighting of parents, I fall to my knees Implore, explore, I need help please Finally self-doubt is killing me Hurt yourself, **** yourself, the words haunt me Impending divorce blame lays on me Guilty, hurting, no one else blames me I'm not good enough, I'm not smart in school Fear, hear, failing in school My mirror reflection, an ugly sight to see Mocking, taunting, all genders appalled by me A small set of words are used to describe me Fat, ugly, daily vocabulary So I crawl into bed to see another day Breathing, sleeping, with morning comes a new say
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Jan 10, 2019
Jan 10, 2019 at 5:05 PM UTC
Daily (Trigger Warning)
I haven't been so sad recently, which is rare. I had the bad five months last year- to the point I nearly killed myself. And now I'm okay, but then it makes me think; I'm not acting how I should act. I don't feel like me anymore. I'm bored, I don't cry so often, I feel like I'm wearing new shoes that are slightly too small, to the point they rub but don't leave a mark. I think it's because I got so used to being let down, that my body automatically drops me a few stories every couple of weeks. My eighteenth birthday was bad. I think I just gave up on birthdays and to think they used to be my favourite. Now, I spend my time doing what is asked of me; go to classes, smile, do work, go home, do homework, sleep and not dream. It feels weird. I don't feel like me; I want to feel like I'm dying again, like the world itself is crumbling beneath my feet, that, if I smile or move a muscle, my whole being would explode; shattering thousands with reminders that I was here, because now I feel empty. I'd rather feel like death personified than nothing at all.
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Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 7:41 PM UTC
What Happens After I’m Cured?
Coço a cabeça porque está suja. Lavo a cabeça, mas não deixa de estar suja. Por mais que coce e lave não deixa de estar suja. É porque a sujidade vem de dentro e o cotão é difícil de limpar nos cantos do pensamento
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Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 1:53 PM UTC
Poema de uma cabeça suja
When I was a kid, And I still am in many senses, I sat in my room I stared into the dark and conjured up monsters I was afraid of them, but they were welcome If the could play nice I read books while they watched and threatened me I played guitar when they'd stop yelling They would hop on my shoulders And I'd feel their weight So, I worked out to make my body stronger These creatures would get bigger and stronger just like me At one point they were so strong that I wanted to **** myself at 18 That thought had always lingered though They dug me a hole and called it a grave They said they were going to throw me in And I was terrified by that And I wanted that feeling to go away I asked them if they wanted to go for a walk before that happened Perplexed, they agreed And we went along I got to know them and why they wanted these horrible things They were just as confused about themselves as I was about me We stood there trying to make sense of us as a group I realized that we were, in fact, a group We always have been We always will be I'd forgotten that they were just as lonely as I was when I was in my room I'd forgotten that they forced me to become stronger I forgave them in that moment A moment suspended in my reality
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Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 9:06 PM UTC
Walking With A Nightmare
Broken flowers & ragged breaths she spins the earth on a piece of string legs sailing high on the swings her toy dog, Bruno watches closely by a worn copy of a linen-bound Ulysses her latest boyfriend told her she was ' Loopy' & now she doubts the sweet voices in her head talking in sacrilege stirring up dread 'we all have our demons' she had replied ' But not all of us give in' he had said & left her standing by the gate to sleep & nevermore
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Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 1:30 PM UTC
Nevermore