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ombre 14h
my heart is breaking
and i can't pick up the pieces.
i try to hold them together
but red is slipping through
my hands and the
cracks are getting bigger

what do i do

i'm just a helpless kid
that doesn't know how
to wrap bandages
and cuts themselves
with the glass shards
lying on the floor

what do i do

i hate it
i can't talk
my lips won't move
my breath is stuck
inside my chest

what do i do
ombre 1d
I hate myself. I feel like I've reached the bottom of the hole, yet still I go deeper, digging my own grave, a bottomless pit.
I am swimming in a sea of regrets, fears and shame, and every time I try to speak, or open my mouth, another chain gets added to my leg, dragging me down to the watery depths.

I am choking in my salty water prison, salty for all the tears that I have shed, salty for all the bitterness of the person that I have become.
I wallow in self pity, not even trying to break free from my chains, for the body fastened there has long since rotten, and there is nothing left but an empty shell.


I wish for the blessing of death's cold embrace, though to me, it would be as warm as a thousand burning suns.
For I am cold, my heart frozen, unfeeling.
And in the rare moments that it thaws, it is all too much, and I throw it back into its icy prison.

I feel lost. Stumbling through a dark forest, tripping over roots, hundreds of years old. 'I am worthless, I am nothing.' That is the broken record that plays in my head, over and over, droning ever on. I believe it now. I have stopped fighting.

I lay in silence, hoping for the pain to stop, though I know now, it won't. Ever. I have fallen now, too exhausted to pick myself back up. Should I stay here? I am too tired to move. I want to fade into the darkness, to let go. I don't want to think. I want to rip out my brain, stop the thought process, yet still it rambles on. My brain is the one writing these words, although the action is performed by my fingers, those steadfast workers that never quit.

Unlike me.

I am no longer a person. I am a shadow, an imitation of a person, ever changing, ever growing, a thousand masks. There is no longer “me”, there are only different versions of me, each one made for a different person, perfected every night, tailored by yours truly.

I pick and pluck personality aspects from different people. I am a walking talking piece of plagiarism, for none of this is mine, it is only a shell, a facade, a sham.
This is how my story ends. I am a waste of space, who has used someone else's oxygen for too long. It is now time for me to pay the price, for as they say, a life for a life.

So so long unfair world, my chains are now shattered, but still I lie, dead, rotting, at the bottom of the cold ocean floor, never to be seen or heard, ever again.

And yet still, here I am. Still I write, even though I know that my name will never taint another pair of lips. Even though I know no one will even think of me, for who misses the shadow in the night? I am out, snuffed like a candle, but my flame will never be lit again, for my wick has but cut away.
Why am I here on this Earth? Is this some cruel form of punishment? Who would want to inflict this on a child? On anyone?

Every night I scream silently, I feel too much, too much, everything is too much, too much, until it's not enough. Every night, tears, warm tears roll down my face, an earbud hanging out my ear, music blasting, making my eardrums bleed, as I claw at my eyes and skin, pull my hair and cut my wrists, the music meant to drown it all, the thoughts, the constant buzzing of words that never stop, flowing and ebbing and rushing ever on—

I am only lament, not human, only useless weeping tears dripping to the floor. My mouth is sealed, my words choke in my throat, I can't speak, I can't scream, my voice is gone, where is my voice?! I have no mouth yet I must scream, I have no voice yet I must cry, my wings are clipped, remaining are only bleeding stumps.

So now I take my leave, I bow on the stage and wave to the crowd, a smile
(is it really a smile?”) pasted to my lips, I laugh in delight (no I'm not), laughter ringing in my ears.
Except you know too, don't you? There is no laughter, no fun, no applause from the crowd. It's just you and the empty void,
and since you can't fill the void, the void has decided to empty you.

But once again, at the end of every spectacle, the curtain is pulled down and I vanish again into the dark shadows.

Exit, stage left.
this is a random rant I wrote while I was really depressed (still am sometimes 😅) so I re-edited it and decided to post it. so, if you ever feel alone, read this! we can be alone together.
ombre 4d
Flowers slowly grow up my throat,
  as blood dribbles down my chin,
      and thorns squeeze my aching heart.
           But it's alright, because it's for him.

           And as I lie in the dirt, crying,
       I reminisce about everything
   for I know that I will die
In this garden of unsaid things
I actually wrote a fic on ao3 ABT this. If anyone is interested it's called "Garden of Unsaid Things"
ombre 4d
Shooting stars shine bright
while they fly through the cosmos
ascending to the highest heights

But all that goes up goes down
And the highest pay the biggest price
For as they once had glory, and world-wide renown
Now they have only fragments of the perfect life

Crashing down forgotten,
spiralling away
Our bodies with sickness rotten
our minds withering with decay

There is bit one thing that can save us
One thing between us and the noose and rope
The brightest shining star of all:

☆Hope☆

— The End —