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N Sep 2018
waiting for death...

the empty bottle of pills layed on my bedside table,
so much pressure in my head it feels like it's going to explode.
my chest with a pain so indescribable,
my head starting to get foggy,

first few minutes...

laying in the back of my fathers car,
my head in my sisters lap with my face wet from her tears,
rushing to the ER,
everybody terrified yet i was at peace,

i felt like i could finally be free,
from all the pain and heartaches.
I felt relaxed, undisturbed, ready for death.

first few hours...

laying in the hospital bed,
alive.

i stare at the ceiling with a blank expression,
ignoring all doctors, nurses, therapists, and social workers
that try to talk to me or ask questions.
i barely spoke a word.

they inspected my wrists for cuts,
faint scars, unfound fresh cuts on my hips.
this was never addressed or even commented on by my parents.

my sister held my hand constantly,
sat in that chair with no intentions of leaving,
to comfort me.

first day back...
i had not been at school for afew days,
rumors had gone around,
friends who knew how unstable i was had been talking,
people would approach me and ask what happened,
i got weird looks and stares,
i got so many questions.

first week...
i sat in my chair in the classroom in a shocked silence,
i didn't speak a word at school for a whole week.
a blank stare on my face all day,
constantly wishing that i was never brought into that hospital,
wishing they didn't save me.

first month...
i slept so much yet never felt rested
my sister felt like the only person giving me the support and love that i needed,
the only person to text me throughout the day,
the only person to keep me company,
the only person to get me to speak about how i was feeling,
the only person to remind me every single day how much she loved me.

second month...
i hold back my tears in english.
as we watch a movie about a girl that commited suicide.

third month...
i let small things get to me while locked in my room,
feeling so numb that i slit my skin so i can feel something,
so i can see if i'm still alive or not.

fourth month...
i want to give up again

fifth month...
i get prescribed medications for depression


people don't understand what it's like
to awake every morning,
and all they can wonder is
why they had even awoken

to pick up all of their pieces,
and put them back together
but still feel like they're broken

to say all that they can say,
and still feel like there's more
yet every word has been spoken,

slowly becoming immune to my emotions,
with my lungs incapable of letting air out,
with the pain buried within and unable to turn into tears.

to go to sleep every night,
and the only hope they have
is that their eyes will not open.

now...

i am still healing, on my way to recovery
i am reminded of all the pain i've endured through the years
it used to be etched into my body

i regret it yet also embrace it
because i am strong,
and i will survive.
Carmen Jane Aug 2019
You're not lost, just because you didn't comb today
I see you here, yet your thoughts are drifting away ...
You rake the leaves, with your bare hands,
You try to see, where your future stands.

You're not lost,  just because you need a break,
I see you smile, while trying to hide your heartache
You collect the dirt, under your fingernails,
As you walk barefoot and cover your trails.

I still see you, underneath the falling leaves,
I hear your voice say "thank you"  and "please"
I see your true smile, glowing in your eyes,
You're the only reason, my soul survives.
Lost Soul Jun 2019
I feel damaged, I feel broken
see depression had me trapped
At a young age
well before I had even spoken
When I was 8, I saw someone get sick
I spiraled infront of everyone
they saw me as a burden so
I was sent home real quick
When I was 10, I laid in bed
for two months...
I watched the same movie
and refused to eat because the demons in my head
When I was 12, I was scared to leave ..
my house and even my bedroom
I would hyperventilate
then cry so hard I'd heave
When I was 18
I screamed till my voice was no more
my cries echoed off the walls
but no one cared to notice
what happened behind my bedroom door
When I was 19, I was too nice
I put others first
but little did I know
a piece of my heart was the price
I am broken, I am damaged
everyday I wake up
surviving the day is always a challenge
Sanjali Aug 2018
16
-Supposed To Survive-

I cannot understand
If I am weak or patient,
I cannot understand
What I should think.
Is it okay if I let life play
Or do I fight with all my will?

Wise people would say
'There’s a time for each way',
But how am I, the unwise,
Supposed to decide?
How am I, the fool,
Supposed to survive?
Sometimes my life seems to be wrapped around these lines.
AroruA Mar 2018
#1
I've been told how to look
What to feel!
What to say!
So you are expecting me to be a certain way
Surrounded by all these faces I say that I don't fit in
I see less of myself compared to that girl over there laughing ....

But maybe that's  superficial
Maybe she's just like me
Hiding under a shell, and not letting others see
Maybe she wakes up with the biggest regret
Maybe she doesn't want to laugh but that's not right compared to what society says

But I'm here for you girl, and I know you cannot hear
But feel it within that it doesn't end here
I know you feel crushed, hopeless and like nothing else matters
But still feel it inside that it's going to get better

I know you've heard this a million times, better days will come
But believe me when I say the worst has not yet arrived
I know you think its hard and  what's the point in living when you see your self-esteem getting crushed upon even in every single one of your dreams

It will get better, say that out loud
Not because others will make it so, but because you have the guts to throw down what others expect, disagree with what others think, crush down that conformity that society has put you in
You will make it far, try to understand
And once you believe it, the mask you have put on will finally disappear it.
Wangui Oct 2018
The tables have been turned and all my kitchen wear on the floor.. I was holding my shoe in my hand I could not believe that someone had **** near broke everything in my house.  The tv was gone and they ripped my seats to shreads. I don't know what they were looking for but i'll tell you something for sure it wasn't the cushions. Even in that moment the loss i was experiencing without couldn't match the one within.

I miss her, i do.... My dearest Yuri. The one who woke me up at night in dramatic cries and seemed sort of angry that she wasn't swimmjng in my womb anymore. The one who seemes to enjoy crapping herself and make me clean the mess up.  The one who looked at me and in those seconds of locking eyes we knew we were meant for each other. Ooooh Baby...

What worse could those thieves do to me.  Haven't i seen it all.. Death was the biggest and most hurtful of all the *******!!!  Taking the life out of me.... Without a care of how he would leave me. Death is like a man who takes and takes and never gives. Always wanting you to be the victim... Hell even hell wants you to survive the fire today so you could burn some more tomorrow.

Now the women look at me like a failure.. A woman who couldn't keep a crying baby alive.... And what could I have done?  If i could breathe her my own life I could. Without a second to spare. I would trade it.  She was dying and I could not do a thing to help. How useless can mortality be? What is the purpose of life if you cannot live with those you truly care for. She chocked. She was suckking to much.. I was sleeping. I was tired and I lost myself for a second... But a second is what it took for the passerby to grab her.

Uugh blood.... Cut from the glasses on the floor. Honestly did they have to make such a mess... How hard is it to not break stuff. Do clean job.. My God... Proffesional thieves need to come back in town. I mean there was no one in the house... They even broke my special flask... Hell, my only heart was broken and am still walking like a 'normal' person.

Yuri... My sweet Yuri.. Sometimes I see you everyhwere.  My mother comes every other day to check up on me... She says she has to.  I don't have to go through this on my own.. But why does it feel like i am.  I feel like the air has changed it chokes now . I feel like the spaces are cornering me. Like am walking round in circles. The Exodus!  

Cleaning up my house helps. I don't need the police at this point... What more can they do anyway?  All my glasses are broken not to mention my seats and my tables. They even threw my cooking *** on the floor! Honestly were they trying to hurt me. Tough luck someone beat them to it. I don't need the police bringing in pieces of me that I want to leave behind.

Yes cleaning helps.... Maybe one day I will clean up my closet or what is left of it anyway. But right now am ready to leave the memories and the nightmares.  Maybe i can make peace.
Freijah Sel Yna Oct 2018
She's like a glass
with a broken body,
chipped heart by every events
she had gone through.
Cracked, damaged and flawed.
Got hurt trying to fix things,
and bleed trying hold
herself together.
One more gentle touch
to make sure how she was doing?
She'll be shattered
into pieces without knowing.
I don’t think of you that often
The eyes and faces all turned themselves towards me
Love no one
However, we may suffer
It’s funny, if you do, you start missing everybody
And I’m afraid
My failures: I had not forgotten them
To have survived so long
It happened, I stopped loving him.
Tommy Randell Dec 2014
To loosen with my bare hands
the wide air between us
in explaining something of meaning
I almost feel
I am pulling flesh
from the living and moving moments
possible here.

It is somehow breaking
the natural order of things
to use words alone
of all viable means
in setting out the wind-waves and rivulets
of ideas internally flowing -
but I must try and get something out for once.

I circle in bad phrases
prickling with the itchiness of sharing,
I send out a few vague words
horrified and perplexed
at their translation now they are naked
knowing you too listen
and they are at last unalterable.

Deep in the brain, far back
this is my bad time
but I know where the roots go
down into me
and from the storm’s heart
perpetual agitation pumps hand in hand
with calm acceptance.
The self *****, alternately
to fan and to freeze
whatever doubts or unease are burning.
Talk travels the spaces between us
through the clear air
in the kind of silence
surviving bones may know swinging in a wind.

But I know stillness can become alive
when living mouths bring their hearts to bear -
ears can well hear
what the breath has to say,
as the eye sees
the body’s smallest noises -
face to face we are a field of listening.

The warm comes without sound.
This is only the edge of a becoming.
We are not trapped in the lips -
already we lean inward
to know of each other and to give
not words for the wind
but a dance at ease with all that flows.
Dimitris Dec 2018
Cyber-zombies
surviving blindsided
in a no-space, no-time fiber

They lied, partly,
when they said that everything goes black
when you die.
Everything goes black
or completely white.

Like this screen.
This white screen
This white bright screen
This white bright screen of death
My divulging outcries should
match the anguished weeks we've had. I've deceived all of
you with obscured replies, and now this distrustful person
I am is hard to understand. But you see, I can't decipher myself,
for I'm a traveler of my own heartbreak. A nomad without a map, searching for this knack to surviving. Deserted on scattered land, and each fighting "I'm okay" evolves me more lost. An unsolvable destination to which discovered, I may uncover a pumping, breathing new body and fresh spirit clean of a blemished memory. Deprived and striving; I'm holding on for that revival of flared hope, to where I cope with these thoughts in a better way. How long can you
thrive on nothing?
Will I last today?
----------------------
I hold everything in, and then I break. No one gets what I'm feeling, because it usually happens a long time beforehand.
pluto Dec 2018
Secluded behind the walls of glass structures,
Bleeds time within its ruptures,
For diamonds vanish as its sands continuously fall,
As trapped souls rapidly add dents to it's fractured wall.
"They ran out of time"
Jay M Nov 2019
The hardest thing of all
Is being enough
For yourself

Living
When all you wish to do
Is perish

Yet

There are things to live for
Love
Friends
Some family

But in the moment
The only thing is love
But that is even hazed over
In that moment of weakness
Taking too many
Seated on the cold wooden floor
Clutching a stuffed animal
In a closet
Tears streaming down
Nothing seems real

Next dawn
Dizzy, lightheaded, weak
Finally kicking in
Overwhelming regret and guilt

Trembling as I lay
Wrapped in the blankets
Soft like a kittens fur
Invisible tears streamed down
Cascading to the pool of emotions
I was drowning in

After time
Finally
Gaining the courage to talk
To a friend
Trusted
Explaining
Understood
Swearing never to repeat that cursed day

But
Still
I must tell my love
What to say?
What to do?
Oh the ache
The sorrow
Never do I wish to hurt him
Yet
This shall...
Still
I must be honest

Coping is a challenge
One I have yet to master
But one day
I shall tame the demons within
Look up to the sky
Breathe and say;
"I'm alive."

- Jay M
November 6th, 2019
I'm alright. Recovering.
two roses-
growing in the same bush-
surviving off the same soil-
growing into something beautiful-
becoming something greater-
growing as one

the sun-
shining bright upon them-
encouraging their growth-
lighting up their future-
calming their senses-
kindling the passionate affair-
moving them closer together-
more intimate and dear

the sun neglects its obligation to one of the roses-
refusing a light source for the bloom-
leaving it wilted and begging for nutrients-
brown and fragile-
dying as the sun proceeds to rise over the other rose

the second rose continues growing along with the sun-
in spite of the downfall of the latter-
almost mocking the lesser decaying bloom-
because it has a source of light encouraging its growth-
safe and sound-
not giving any pity to the rotting flower beside it-
soaking up its own source of light-
and not sharing any rays with the decaying blossom-
rendering it useless and unwanted

the selfishness of the one rose-
refusing to share its sunshine with the latter-
results in solely one rose-
instead of two roses
stop taking my light, i want to grow, too
ChessnieLea Nov 2012
Even though you're not gone.
                      I've already lost you.
Even though you're not here,
                      you're in my heart.
Even though I love you so,
                      my hatred grows.
Even though you're dying,
                       in my heart you're still,
                                        Alive,
           ­                             Striving,
                          ­              Living,
                                        Sur­viving,
                                        Thriving.
Andrew Rueter Nov 2017
I don't live here
I'm only camping
On this planet
I didn't plan it
Yet I feel the need to explain it
As the plaintiff
To the sheriff
Imposing tariffs

Money is their concern
While my emotions burn
They are somewhat surviving
At the price of dying
That's the cost of lying
It makes us stop trying
Only commodity buying
While silently sighing
And violently frying
Through fruitless searches
No matter what we purchase
Or how much we spend
The gripping grief never ends
When there are no hands to lend

There are no problems with these items
When we willingly refuse to sight them
They are from where our problems erupt
For we neglectfully allow them to disrupt
The connections that our hearts yearn for
And our wallets burn for
When we spend our emotions on inanimate objects
To avoid the intangible subject
Of love

We're frightened of phantoms
A life heightened by tandem
Is not in the cards
We buy for each other
They don't begin to cover
The way we feel
They are a shield
For our true emotions
Objects can't evoke one
Yet that's our language for expression
Consumerism acts as our lethal injection
jayebird Jun 2019
After all i've earned them
the subtle pull
and swift replacement,
    the golden gain gifted
     from a soul dentist
I accept the strange medicine and sense
Suddenly my core forever
chasing the great
sulfur in circles as I fall adrift
    The wanting sleep which
     closes all eyes after end of sky
Behind mine observes a screen of
Out-knocked teeth and offput blood
Pft out in a porcelian sink
The glass just above
displays swollen
  tears and my
Soul transforming from
Learned lead and
cold iron into
August and
Nothing bleak like my
Now unique two front
It takes awhile but
I have a new smile at me
Twist the
Brass doorknob upside down
on it's axis and
Walk away from the abuse cycle owning
The tired metal middle
of earth cracking
Outer mold revealing a
Levitating ball of God who
Now unbound
Seeks six-thirty post midnight
High plains and
Holy painted solace
With bruises yellowing
I scream drive
into tunnels where the
warm streetlights racing in
my periphery
know I am the glowing go of life
And will never grow old despite
Losing a couple given ones
This is a vague story about someone who had their two front teeth knocked out by a punch from someone close to them, and now has two golden teeth. It is a poem about accepting their self as beautiful and worthy after an abusive relationship. It is about renewal and resplendant transformation. The subjects perspective has also expanded past their story and looks to the sky and universe for their source of love. I hope this inspires anyone who has been through physical abuse and knows the struggle of finding their peace again.
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