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him
He sits there
in the back of my mind
always there

but the problem is
youre miles away from where i am
distance is a *****
 Sep 2015 Yume Blade
Isaac Huston
Not
My depression
Is not
My defining characteristic.
Do not treat me
As if it were.
For to say
That my depression defines me
Would be to admit defeat
And I am not done fighting
Yet.
 Sep 2015 Yume Blade
reposession
The hospitals monitor keeps beating
reminding me of how I'm alive,
Oh how unfortunate it was that I
forgot to lock the bathroom door.

It slowly beeps amplifying my heartbeat,
piercing the eerie silence with an insanity
inducing melody, singing slowly
with incoherent words.
To be heard only by the one to commit.

Beeping over and over with one
purpose to torture me with the fact
*I failed and am still alive.
 Sep 2015 Yume Blade
raine cooper
maybe yours would be hands that stay
or your eyes, stars that won't burn out
maybe your waves would keep reaching,
instead of relentlessly leaving the shore
but i have said goodbye to parts of myself
and i know they'll never come back
the parts that love
the pieces that trust
they lay here shattered and broken
and i can't let anything close
because i am made entirely of ruins
and i destroy all that i touch
©rainecooper
 Sep 2015 Yume Blade
Olivia Kent
A smile filled with optimism spreads world wide, teeth ivory white.
A smile sodden with pessimism is falling upside down, teeth covered in charcoal.
It's just in front of another cakehole.
It struggles to find a reason.
Year in, year out.
Tis the time of your life.
(C) LIVVI
 Sep 2015 Yume Blade
Joel Frye
why
 Sep 2015 Yume Blade
Joel Frye
why
Some days there are no
needs that matter; other days,
I need a reason.
 Sep 2015 Yume Blade
Harsh
My eyes are strained against an LCD,
my fingers mindlessly tapping away.

                                                          ­        [My eyes are on the road,]
                                                          ­        [my fingers intertwined with yours.]

I look up at the clock,
the entire day is behind me now.

                                                           ­       [I look up at my rearview,]
                                                      ­            [the entire city is behind me now]

I lean back in my office seat
and let out a sigh of exasperation.

                                                  ­                [I lean back in the driver's seat]
                                                           ­       [and let out a sigh of content]

The droning sound of the printer
drags with my monotonous heart.

                                                         ­         [The melodic sound of your laughter]
                                                       ­           [lifts my symphonic heart]

I work until the sun drops

                                                               ­   [We drive until the sun rises]

                                                  and then
We drive.
                                                          ­        [I work.]
Inspired by the song "Next In Line" x Walk The Moon
 Sep 2015 Yume Blade
Harsh
I once read a post that said
something along the lines of
“I do not trust people
who tell me ‘I love you’
and yet do not love themselves.”

And that hurt my heart, it really did.

Who are you to invalidate my love?

Do you not know
of the sleepless nights I have spent,
laboring over my sins of the day?
Knowing that sometimes
I may never repent?
With past regrets
and paranoid overthinking,
how do I rest?

Do you not know
of how I avoid looking in mirrors
throughout the day,
or how I hate looking
at myself in the shower?
Don't you know how
conflicted I feel when lying
naked and vulnerable with my lover?

Do you not know
what it feels like to apologize
for who you are?
Or to have all of
your efforts and ethics
invalidated and dismissed?

If you do not trust me then so be it,
but do not reject the idea that I can love.
I know what it means to have
neither hope nor acceptance,
I know what it means
to regret my existence.

I know what it feels like
at 4am with all the lights out
with the absolute conviction
that I am entirely worthless.

I know **** well
what it feels like to be unloved.
Does that not make my love
*mean that much more?
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