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 Mar 2014 Brooke Davis
Kareena
I have always left a piece of myself
In every place that I have been

I quietly left my eyes at the grand canyon
Because I never quite believed it was real
So I decided to place them on a royal red rock
To keep looking onward at the painting on the ground

I surrendered my hands at Our Daily Bread
Because I went there one summer ago
And decided they needed them more than I did
To help those who could not help themselves

I secretly rested my heart with you
In your big cabinet of special things
As I tiptoed out the door
Whispering "Goodbye"
But looking back once I departed

I sat on that hill awhile once I left
And decided to give it my memories
Because it could project them onto the sky
For the chromatic sunset on the horizon
For others to see and enjoy

Piece by piece I give myself away
To those places and people that need the pieces more than I
I don't mind that I am withering away, piece by piece
Because the pieces will come back one day
Once they have done what needed to be done
 Mar 2014 Brooke Davis
PrttyBrd
To love the dream
More than the man
Isn't love
31114
10w
 Mar 2014 Brooke Davis
Emma
Who would have thought,
of impossible things?
have there not been the possible things?
and those who are impossible
well they're obviously possible
so why do we say it's impossible?

we are told breathing water is impossible,
but fish show it's possible
And people say others are impossible
well tell their parents that
because I'mpossible
so in this world of the possible impossible
we must decide if we are possible
A whisper left,
Upon my lips,
No one was meant,
To hear.

Shaking through
My Fingertips,
The numbness turned,
To fear.

And now I have,
Been ******* to,
A knot I cant undo.

For every time,
I seek release,
My headspace fills,

With you.
sometimes my parents will ask me
"are you really going down that road again"
with such disdain and bitterness
and it just makes me so angry
because they do not realize that depression
is not a road one chooses to go down
and it is not a road one can easily exit
it is an unpaved road riddled with cracks and potholes
with no street signs or stoplights to guide us safely home
and to accuse someone of willingly taking that road?
well, that is how some of us end up there in the first place
-
 Mar 2014 Brooke Davis
aphrodite
You drink about it.
       You smoke about it.
              You **** about it.
                      You cut about it.
                           You sleep about it.
                                 You stopped sleeping about it
                                       You stopped eating about it.
                                            You keep eating about it.
                                                You swallow pills about it.
                                                      You punch walls about it.
                                                           You kick cans about it.
                                                             ­   You spit about it.
                                                             ­        You write about it.
                                                             ­          You cry about it.

                                                            ­            But you won't talk about it.

                                                            ­ You won't pray about it.
                                                      You won't seek help about it.
                                                 You won't reach out about it.
                                            You won't tell your father about it.
                                      You won't tell your lover about it.
                                  You won't meditate about it.
                           You won't medicate about it.
                    You won't preach about it.
             You won't advocate about it.

       You're killing yourself over it,
but perhaps it's time you start saving yourself from it.
What is your "it"?
I've bolded what I find to be healthier alternatives for coping, opposed to the common and harmful ways of coping that are italicized.
This poem is very personal & I hope you learn to cope the best way you can.
**
"It's a shame,"
A mother  says to her daughter,
"that such pretty girls think such dark things."

But there it is --
The very reason why us girls think thoughts so dark:
There is beauty in death.

As soon as we're gone,
People suddenly want us.
Celebrities will pray for the poor young lost soul,
We'll suddenly be beautiful in everyone's eyes --
And everyone will want to be our friend.

Suddenly those bullies want forgiveness,
And your out-of-your-league crush likes you back.

You'll never age -- a constant beauty.
You'll be pure -- negativity buried with your body.
You'll be smart -- the one "with the bright future."

Suddenly we're wanted,
Missed
Mourned
Loved
We've gotten all we've been searching for!
But what good does it do us,
if we'll never feel the suns warmth again?
Never again to catch loose snowflakes,
Or smell the spring dafodils?

If you can bring yourself to never laugh again,
To never kiss again,
To never dream again,
Then it's on you.
But don't tell me you'll go without regret:

Maybe you'd still be alive if someone told you sooner?
Maybe we should stop praising those who take their lives?

~C E Smith
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