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SolitudeFrom dusk to dawn,
in this desolate place
that we call
I feel that
with no way out,
Without a future,
without a purpose,
my yearning soul...
As the darkness
As the numbness
of my sanity
please don’t sing.
hymns bring me
back to those days
back to those
please don’t sing.
Your melodic music-
to my eyes
to my wrists.
Please stop singing.
hurt me more
I can't breathe no moreThe whispering wind drops off memories on the road
Smells of winter.
Foggy trees, hidden flowers, fleeting scenery, everything blurs
The maze of my brain.
Shivering as if I was drunk with grief
Human wreck stares at me, hollow gaze
My past lives are hung on the wall of oblivion
Reborn from grief.
Eternal darkness reign above me, on this oppressive night
Snows of coal.
The image of your grave stuck in my head
As dead as you.
You'll never read this.I've made up my mind
I wanted to be
in the ash
that was scattered
across your cemetary
when the devil came
and smoked a cigarette
over your tomb
and I watched
it was like silk
in the moonlight
because I chose the perfect time
and I knew
that you were
lying through your teeth
every day that you
pretended as if you knew
what your purpose was
so here I stand
and I left
watching as the cigarette ashes
were sucked up by a
that thought it was funny
it wasn't funny
it wasn't a joke
like you thought it was
and I'll keep this scene playing in my head
while you'll keep laughing with
and not noticing
Trauma at dawn,
This is all so wrong.
Nothing was there,
Just the cold air,
There you stare,
With the huge chair.
You never let me free,
To run at the big tree,
But you had other plans,
With my bloody hands.
Days turned into weeks,
Losing color within my cheeks,
The floor creaks,
With every pressure in my feet.
There lays the remains,
Of my veins,
There lays the chains,
For his gains.
Love Me.She falls asleep most every night
To the sound of her parents pointless fight
And clinging tightly to her tear soaked pillow
She goes to school most every day
Wishing she could run away
From all those who torture her
For not being ‘cool’
Her mother, she just plain ignores her
Her father’s never even there
Who would notice if she were gone?
Who would even care?
She just wants to make it quick
To take this razor as her friend
And feel its tender loving kiss
Pressed against her paper skin
She just wants to make it stop
The feeling lonely, sad and hated
She holds the blade up to eye level
I don’t know how long she waited
She presses hard against her skin
And lines of ink bleed from the pen
The blade, it rests there on her knee
On her arm she wrote
All They See Is ScarsI want to tell a story,
but this story isn't a fairy tale
and it wont have a happy ending,
because the real ones, well
they never really do.
In high school
I picked up my pen
and I began to write
It existed and it was pure
and it was lovely.
But my rapist rewrote me.
breathing on my neck
and tracing my back with his fingers.
He rewrote me as broken.
He wrote me as a statistic,
as another white girl who got told
that she cried rape for attention.
But that didn't matter because see,
I wanted to tell a story.
A story about family,
about picking each other up
about blood being thicker than water
about how not everyone's home
had to be broken.
But my father rewrote me.
When i picked up my pen
he spoke words to me
that I swear bruised my whole body
and I learned that nothing
was thicker than his alcohol
and my home was already shattered.
But I wanted to tell a story.
so I picked up my pen
to write about god.
A God that could save anybody
And God loved everybody,
which was the onl
ShadowsHer silhouette is beautiful.
Her eyes…when she cries are like ice.
A face frozen in time.
A wonder to behold.
She stares back at me with grey pupils.
Her brown hair dances in the wind.
She tells me she feels dead inside.
But to feel dead is alive.
Or so I’ve been told…
Feeling alone is alive.
To feel something is alive.
So I don’t push her away.
I motion her to come closer.
And she does
She creeps closer
Like the object that she is.
Like the robot that she is.
She tells me that she hates me.
I shrug it off. I don’t care.
But her words pierce me
She’s good at it
Like she’s Ares.
But we’re a single being,
Whether she likes it or not.
She is part of who I am.
I am part of who she is.
We’re made of each other,
We’re made for each other.
We see through each other like glass.
We understand each other’s darkness
Because we’ve experienced it together.
I Won't Let GoWhat happened to you?
Your hollow eyes, sunken into your head.
Your pale skin, stretched over your brittle bones.
Your raven hair, falling in strands into your jet black eyes.
Your gangly arms and your long, spindly fingers grasping for a sense of reality.
But what scared me the most were your scars.
Long, thin scars ran down your face, arms, and legs like veins
One scar for every time you made a mistake.
One scar for every time your heart shattered.
It made you look...inhuman.
Your eyes were almost like that of a madman's.
They glinted with pain, sorrow, and regret.
Remember when your eyes used to be a brilliant blue?
As I recall, they were a beautiful shade, like the sea; crystal clear.
Now, your eyes were fogged.
They became dull orbs of lifelessness.
You told me it was because of the pain.
I wanted to help you, but you refused.
'Best if I'm left alone,' you'd say sadly.
You barely even talked now.
I almost wonder what's in that brain of yours.
What could've happened
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
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