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sophie Jan 2021
9.
her way of venting is unique
other than poems
which is pretty normal
she thinks

while showering
she sits down
puts some background beats on high
and sings her heart out
it’s all improvisation
but it helps
a little

tonight
she sang of hurt and
staying alive
for her friend’s sakes
but never for her own

is she ok?
she doesn’t know
not the best, but not absolutely horrid
Juno Jan 2021
My cheeks are damp with silent tears
but you don’t seem to notice.
I reach out to get some comfort
but you offer little solace.
Eli Jan 2021
Break free

Why am I dead?

There goes some tears

Funeral to be had
inside my head.

Am I not me at all?

Give me the key

Open the door

Who's in here?

Tell me more.

Break ****.

Watch it burn.

Cry on ashes
in an urn.

I'm dead inside
and mourning
my soul.

Plug me up

and

Let me go.

Unzip my body.

and

split my brain.

I hate it here.

All existence

is pain.
This probably doesn't make sense.  I just know I was mad and crying when I wrote this. I sat down to write this feeling a mixture of sorrow, agony, and rage.  To be honest, this isn't even all of what I wrote.  I ended up getting ******* at the universe, aka me, for making me.  Then I scribbled in my journal and threw it across the room in a fit of rage.
Jason R Michie Oct 2020
____

To wallow in and under drown,

To shape a tear, to form a frown.


Exaggerations embracing pain,

They weave a spell to summon rain.


A heart to crush, a mind to flood,

And veins that throb with rivers blood.


Confusion swims where soft truth flies,

A cauldron to mix a concoction of lies.


These fires scar, yet sear no flesh,

While times slow healing turns souls to ash.
© 1998 Jason R. Michie All Rights Reserved
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