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Izzy Jan 2019
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Crack the wall
Crack my skin
To hide the cracked state I’m in
Keep falling into pieces
Keep telling myself I’m lying
You can see my tear stained face
Of course I’m ******* lying
I cannot cope
I cannot cope
Why can’t I ******* cope?
Maybe I need an intervention
Maybe it’s beyond my comprehension
But the smug look
Of my own mind
Likes to remind
Death is kind
3am
Izzy May 2020
3am
It's 3 am and I feel like ****

what else is ******* new?
3am
Izzy Dec 2018
3am
I stare at my ceiling

waiting for my life to have meaning

but

there

is

no

purpose

in

my

life
Izzy Jan 2019
My poems are garbled thoughts moulded into a predictable structure

                                                      ­if
                   i
                                     change
                                                          ­     what
             is
                            expected



does that mean my writing is worthy of praise?
Izzy Dec 2018
Hollow abysses of anguish, lie deep within a poets eyes

Creativity is a result of torment
Poetry is beauty written by the miserable
Izzy Nov 2019
I am a succubus: my caress turns you to putty in my hands.
My allure is effortless: your limbs are mine to do with as I desire.


You cannot resist my allure just like a fish to the bait
Izzy Dec 2018
It's supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year
but all that happiness pushes me deeper into the abyss of self-loathing
Izzy Mar 2019
Lashing whips cause me to writhe
Screams of agony intertwined with anguish
My brain has ruptured and my mind is corrupt
I am no longer in control

I seek the control I lost but I'm nothing but a puppet to the controller
Izzy Sep 2020
Creativity is a coping mechanism for those disillusioned by the reality
Cut
Izzy Dec 2018
Cut
**** I messed it up
                                  I mess everything up

I'm a ******* failure
Izzy Dec 2018
She wishes on the dandelions
She is a child at heart
But she wishes for her happiness
And that that happiness won’t depart
She cannot deal with sadness and the bruises and the pain so she wishes on the dandelions that those feelings will go away
But her wishes now are useless so her tears are now the norm and she wishes that her crying would end this thunderstorm.
The dandelions are dying and now so are her dreams
But she still wishes on the dandelions for the smiles she doesn’t beam
Izzy Dec 2018
I’m creatively uninspired
and I’m socially deprived
I barely exist beyond my thoughts
and if I don’t exist within society
It is as if I’m already dead
Izzy Sep 2020
I haven't written in a while and my poems only seem to feel forced
unless I'm in a general state of desolate despair
Izzy Jan 2019
Maybe I'll find
                          my answers
                                                  at the bottom
                                
                                                                           of this bottle
Izzy Jan 2019
I am such a failure I can't even write a poem.

I can't string my simple thoughts into coherent sentences

What

A

****-up
Izzy Sep 2020
intimacy in its singularly most beautiful form is to be understood
Izzy Dec 2018
Poetry is the purest form of introspection.
The examination of one’s conscience, thoughts and feelings can be so difficult
Look at my words and understand me
I am my words.
I am my sentences.
I am my poems.
Izzy Dec 2018
I'm living in a world of perpetual misery
My life is meaningless and so am I
Who cares if I deserve to live?
That doesn’t change that I want to die
The monotony is agonizing
Work and Sleep
Work and Sleep
Work and Sleep
Maybe my death would cause some change just a tiny rift
And away my soulless corpse would drift
Cause the monotony of life really makes me tear apart my wrist
Izzy May 2019
The word I type seem lifeless
They float in the cavity of my thoughts
why
doesn't
anyone
like
my
work
?
Izzy Nov 2019
Babbling brook                                                               Babbling brook
Babbling brook             Alice slays the jabberwocky           Babbling brook
Babbling brook                                                                Babbling brook


solitude is the only logical conclusion.                              what am I?


Babbling brook                                                               Babbling brook
Babbling brook                                                               Babbling brook
Babbling brook                 Faciens ars est errata                 Babbling brook
Izzy Mar 2019
I am aching to create but I can't

I feel like such a ****-up but I can't
Izzy Nov 2019
Terminology so vibrant doesn't suit achromatic souls nor does the labyrinth-like structures peppered by aureate phrases that I have a fondness for
Izzy Aug 2019
Numb, I am so numb
Numb, I cannot feel
Numb, I am broken
Numb, What is pain?
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———————————————————
ERROR
I am a product of my fAUltY programming
Izzy Feb 2019
Death is an illusion:your energy will never die

Whirling in whirlpools of infinity; the parenthesis of eternity
I wrote this at 12 and it was my first poem
Izzy Dec 2018
I can’t sleep; I should take a pill for that
I can’t eat; I should take another pill
I hear voices; one more pill
I’m not happy; another pill
I’ve taken too many pills, I’m dying and I can’t take a pill for that
Izzy Feb 2020
Nary an original thought possesses me,

maybe I should become mute?

But then how would I boast about my obnoxious self perceived importance?
Izzy Nov 2019
Aristocracy is opulence:
encrusted with diamonds.

I've amassed an abundance of
frivolous jewels; they adorn my
band of silver filled with prestige
Sad
Izzy Feb 2020
Sad
my sadness is disfiguring
that **** ain't poetry

.
.
.
Izzy Feb 2019
I spill my guts onto the page

                            where
                                              has

                                                       my
                          sanity
                                             gone
                                                              ?
Izzy Apr 2019
my skin is so fragile that taunts can cut it

the crimson is so pretty
Izzy Aug 2019
I’ve always been peculiar
                                      My poems are self-assured nonsense
Chaos is soothing
                                                    Unique is a matter of perspective
Izzy Apr 2019
Flickering hues of crimson and vermilion refracted from the fiery scorch inducing orb enveloping the stratosphere; intertwined with a sombre inky canopy of mauve encapsulating a smattering of luminous enigmas.
Izzy Jan 2019
I’m sitting out on the patio
Drinking a G & T
My heart swells and the sun is bright
And it’s shining down on me.

Sunflowers are blooming and I’ll pour just one more drink cause I’m addicted to the sunshine bubbling inside me with every sip

Gin and sunshine melts the world
My vision is blurred but improved
I’m fuzzy and warm and I feel a bit happy cause I’m numbing my senses from all of reality
Izzy Dec 2018
Shadowy static cracks in my veins and the silence asphyxiates my conscious mind.

My words are futile and thus this is a silent soliloquy of somber anguish.

The silence reverberates off of the empty chambers of my mind, reminding myself of my own inadequacy.
Izzy Feb 2020
One could say that pensively staring out of the window sill is poetic I think it’s wallowing...

I'm not going to get myself into recovery by self-isolating,
Makes me wonder if I even want to recover,
Think it makes me cool being this sick,
It gives me reasons to be such a ****.
Izzy Dec 2018
Tired appears to be the default.
I'm sad but tired.
I'm mad but tired.
Even when people are happy they still appear to be tired...

Is our mere state of existing so exhausting?
Izzy Dec 2018
I post these poems for validation.
Likes and comments fuel my self worth
How pitiful that I'm exploiting my emotions
Just for a single like
Izzy Sep 2019
Does
          writing
                       about
                                your
                                       self-hatred  
                                                   ­      make
                                                            ­       it
                                                                ­        easier

                                                 ­                                  to
                  
                                                                ­                          handle
                                                                ­                                       ?

— The End —