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Mariah 1h
I hate myself
But that's okay
I'll like myself better
Another day

I don't have to hope
I know
With me
That's just how it goes

Just like a stray
I don't always show my face

Give it time
I'll be fine

I know my ways
It always pays
To give me space
It's best to let me go-
at my own pace

I'll come back if it's right
If it's worth the fight

I know my wobbly heart
Would pick it apart
Trying to find the art

If it's worth it
It will hard

And maybe if I'm lucky
It might leave a you shaped scar
Told you I wasn’t okay, didn’t I?
Eyes filled with dread.
Hatred for life.

Told you I was tired, didn’t I?
Head screaming,
telling me to die.

Waving.
Begging.
Hoping someone would notice—
the pain of living a life I didn’t even want.

But you didn’t see me.

Hey —
see me now.
Did you ******* see me?
Or was I still invisible?

Hey —
listen to me now.
Did you ******* listen to me?
Then why did I still feel unheard?

It’s okay now.
Silence speaks louder than ever—
now that I’m in a casket.

It’s okay now.
Why do you mourn me,
when I died
because of your silence?
Rot
You
ripped me open
like I was gift wrap around a bomb—
not a girl.
Tore through the softest parts of me
with hands that once promised safety.
Then smiled.

I bled silence.
I rotted in the hollow you made,
buried under memories you set on fire
just to warm someone else.

And now—
you greet me.
Smile like a Sunday stroll,
like you didn’t
shoot love point-blank
and whistle while walking away
from the grave you dug in my chest.

You left me
gasping in the dirt,
still calling your name
like it was a ******* prayer.
But you—
you were just the devil
dressed in second chances.

So don’t you dare look at me
with that crooked grin,
like I’m still the fool
you left in that pit.

You didn't break me—
you woke something
that will never sleep again.
And I hope
it haunts you.
Mariah Apr 21
My, my, my
If there aren't times
I sure despise
Finding myself outside
。⁠:゚✧       ☆      ✧:。
Shame, shame, shame
  That at the end of each
Of every day
The wind is hoarse
From howling out my name
I wasn’t crying.
I was hydrating my grief
from the inside out.

He said, “You’re not dramatic. Just detailed.”
I said, “You’re not cruel. Just consistent.”
We called that a compromise.
(or else a hostage negotiation.)

There’s glitter in my carpet
from a party I threw
to prove I wasn’t waiting on him.
I wore white.
Not bridal,
but still white enough
to make someone feel guilty.

I lit sparklers like sirens,
toasted survival.
Nobody clapped.

I collect apologies I don’t want,
write scripts for confrontations
that end in standing ovations,
then lose the footage
in a hardware crash
I secretly caused.

I take the stairs two at a time,
just to feel something chase me.
I text “I’m fine :)”
like it’s a safe word—
to keep the spiral
polite.

I rehearse the voicemail
he never left
like it’s Chekhov.
Like if I say it right,
the gun goes off
and I disappear
beautifully.

At the end of the dream,
he’s always wearing my hoodie—
saying something tender,
just slightly
too late.

And I wake up
with eyelashes on my wrists,
thinking—
Maybe I am the problem.
But God—
you should’ve seen the poems.
...
if I were to speak out
in a freak out
and let loose
amplifying my truth
most would label it rage
would vote that I continue to keep it in it's cage
no one cares enough to see that it's pain
because then they'd have to study every molecule of rain
and take some accountability for every stain
and so far I've never been worth that
so I lay down my defense in combat
you get the win
apparently life is so broken
that love and devotion
isn't enough to consider a win
in order for me to be wanted
i must accept their sin
but untill I reach perfection
no one finds me enough to put any effort in
so what I'm working towards
is impossible for me to personally imagine
my dream is now a has been
flip me upside down to see my grin
...
Hermit Apr 19
It feels like fear, it feels like fire,
Like pressure building, climbing higher.
It’s silence breaking into screams,
It’s shattered glass inside my dreams.

It’s every “no” I had to swallow,
Every fake smile I had to follow.
It’s being told “you’re just too much,”
Then wondering why I never trust.

It’s fight or flight with nowhere to run,
A war inside that’s never done.
It’s crying in the shower stall,
And praying that no one hears at all.

It feels like lightning in my veins,
Like thunder dressed up as my name.
It’s fury dressed in Sunday best—
A heart too loud to let me rest.

It’s when the tears have turned to heat,
When breaking down starts to repeat.
It’s shaking hands and biting tongue,
It’s all the songs I left unsung.

It’s childhood screams in grown-up skin,
A beast I keep locked deep within.
It’s not just pain—it’s pain denied,
It’s every time I should've cried.

It’s wanting peace but needing war,
It’s kicking down a bolted door.
It’s loving deep but hurting more,
A tidal wave inside my core.

Don't tell me “Breathe," don't say "relax,"
When all I've ever known are cracks.
This rage, it isn’t just a phase—
It’s how I’ve learned to walk through blaze.

Rage isn’t evil.
It’s grief with nowhere to go.
It’s love that’s been left in the cold.
It’s fear that grew teeth.
It’s me,
trying not to disappear.
Ever felt like expressing your feelings but your introverted nature will not let you? the pressure starts building up slowly like a volcano then starts killing you.
B Reijjj Apr 19
I am the soul who piled darkness in the divine’s realm.
It grows well within the ribs of mine,

Alongside anger and disgust,

Reaping in every inch of glass reflection.

And I sow sorrow freshly in the fields of life,

Acknowledging my own sin

Within the punishment that blow-dries His blessings.
I wake with fresh morning hatred.

Rage, shame, and anguish are friends of mine—

They sleep between my eyes,

Sneaking in during moments of daydreaming.
But His blessings are infinite.

Through every inhale I take,

God’s grace shows me mercy and miracles.

And I catch myself holding the point—

Of becoming nothing through death.


Stopping is not the answer;

And so I keep moving,

For the sake of life
And the gentlest death.
Mariah Apr 17
Am I in league with Hell?
Or is that just how it feels?

Am I truly evil?
Is it my ideals?

Is it my rage alone-
That electrifies the eels?

The fear inside
It petrifies and reels

Pulls me back and forth
Conceals what's truly real

The reaction I can give a thing
Is not always how I feel

And past the stars and burning eyes
The truth can finally be realized
If it was overkill
Or if it was justified
Elaine C Apr 16
im so angry
my emptiness
my loneliness
my everything
all my emotions
boil down to rage

why must i have such high expectations
of myself, and why must other have
such high expectations of me?
im not built for constant brain tearing,
splitting, spearing forwards, to stab the wall
with the sharp edges of my frazzled mind

im a live wire
fizzling against the ground
begging, reeling, praying
for someone to touch it
to spread its angry, fizzing electricity
through someones heart.

as i continue down this path
drinking and smoking and pushing myself
to death
the teenage dream
my rage will push me to new heights
pull me up to great things
just to spite those who wronged me.
sometimes rage is the best lighter for the fire in your heart.
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