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Is waking up everyday a sweet life warranty?
Or is it the most cruel punishment for people like me?
You see, everyday is a Sea of Perpetual Agony,
What with my head filled with Stress and Anxiety,
With all my warped and f*cked up perception of reality.

With all the voices urging me to fail, for every step is steep,
The flashes of graves and coffins are memories I'm forced to keep,
With it in my dark Void of a bedroom I wallow and weep,
For even if I try to fight a little, I always trip,
Always landing in the pit of Depression hurting me with it's jagged tip.

You see, everytime I stand at a crowded grocery aisle,
I feel my stomach lurch and taste the bitter rising bile,
Even when I am ready to bolt and cover up the mile,
I just crumple there, a wheezing and weeping heaping pile,
Frozen yet I am burning in a hellish pyre made up of unwanted people smiles.

You see, people close to me kept trying to ease with a high cost,
To bring out the Happy in me from my heart covered in biting frost,
To make my eyes shine which already have an emotionless gloss,
To find 'Me', yet answer a question I have asked most,
How can you have found me if I myself am lost?

You see, every part of me screams in absolute Pain and Anguish,
Everyday a lethal poison more caustic than it is feverish
For every word I hear, claws from a monster so fiendish,
A cruel reality with dark creatures full of malevolence, ready to ravish,
You see... this is why for me Death is a welcome friend and my dying wish.
The Reality of the Depressed. One I still need to perform yet can't find the time to do so.
I can still remember the time we met
you were standing there confident and proud
and i was lingering and shy
you spoke to me
so poisonously I falsely thought it was love
you trapped me for months
treating me poorly
I made excuses although
because I loved you
but the cloud is slowly lifting away
and I am realizing this is not love
this is controlling
I can still remember the time I realized
I love you
but I can no longer  
Please do not ask me how I feel.
I might just go and tell you.
But the trouble with that is
The words will never come out right.
They will stumble over the bumps on my tongue
Like my heart beat when you smile in my direction.
You are sunshine and grace wrapped into a beautiful package hand crafted for anyone but me.
I am a storm cloud raging with PTSD and suicidal jokes, hand crafted for no one save the demons in my head.
You are a gentle breeze and a massive wave all at once.
I am a broken glass someone has put back together with Scotch tape.
You say I'm beautiful, but I just can't see it.
I say you're perfect, but never out loud.
You see, I have told you countless times exactly how I feel.
But only in my head.
If I try to say it out loud, the words chase each other around like a game of tag and refuse to settle down into the sentences I want them to.
They come out awkward and forced like a tomboy in a beauty pageant.
Still beautiful but not quite right.
It can be painful sometimes because I'm not quite sure how to answer.
I feel so many things that switch from one to another so quickly it's like my heart is watching television and there is nothing interesting on.
So please, do not ask how I feel.
Because I might just go and tell you.
Once. Twice. Three times.
One. Two. Three promises broken.
Forced smiles and long sleeves
Hiding the secrets her wrists tell.
Don't ask, don't tell.
That's the rule.
They didn't ask.
So she didn't tell.
She didn't tell when the demons teased her.
Or when the blades traced her veins.
Or when the bleach burnt her throat.
Not even when the rope fastened tight on her neck.
She tried to tell, but you wouldn't listen.
You wouldn't listen when she cried alone every night.
Or when she begged for the pain to stop.
Or when she screamed for you in the darkness.
But why would you?
She always smiled.
Always seemed happy.
It's easy to ignore the warnings
When you're on the outside.
Maybe you should have listened though.
You could have stopped the blades.
Or kept the pills from her.
Or taken her from that ledge.
If only you had listened.
But how were you supposed to know
If she never told you out loud..
Right?
 Nov 2017 Alexander T
Amber
I’m not sure if i’m broken enough yet
I’m not sure if i can take this pain anymore
Is it ok that i want to quit?
Is it ok that i am past my breaking point?

What is freedom
Is it actually when you have the ability to be alone?
Is it where you have time to breath?
Why can’t you see it

All i want to do is sleep
All i want is to be done
Would a blade help
No
I don’t need that anymore
Im passed that
No more scars on my wrist…
Legs..
Or hips..
Only a few have seen the scars i’ve left on me

Is it ok to cry
No no crying no time for that
What about breathing normally
Nope get back to work
Can i run away and hide
No need to focus just focus

Does anyone understand
This internal battle
Surviving and living are they the same thing
Does not feel like it is

Just 5 min
No stay awake
Keep moving
You’re not good enough
Keep going

Just a quick breath
No you’re not fast enough
Go faster
Stop tripping
Keep going

I can’t
There’s no excuses
Keep moving
You’re not enough
You will never be enough
 Nov 2017 Alexander T
Ariadne
...I'll know a feeling other than emptiness
...I'll know a sensation other than anxiety

...I'll feel something other than loneliness
...I'll know something other than pain

...I'll be alright
...I'll be OK

...I'll be normal
...I'll be gone

— The End —