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There are days when I wonder why I try at all Most things will end up fruitless all that hard work gone to waste Dreams don’t often come true for those who work hard Life becomes pointless at one point in time 
there was a sort of wailing in the street.the type that only mothers could hear in darkened rooms as daughters faced their brothers heat.the type that crashlanded onto to jetpads and showed no mercy when the reigns of endeavors held tight until th
All I want is to be free. free of the demons that haunt my nights Laughing in glee as my eyes droop down. His face fades into place like the cheshire cat.
I’m not okay. I’m sitting on the bathroom tiles, Crying, Screaming, Hurting. The blade glides merrily across my arm, Slice
I hear myself say it too often. I probably just fucked up again. Maybe you broke me, again.   Perhaps it's my astonishment, quite possible since I'm great. Until you tell me I'm not.  
Dear divinity.   I have many questions for you That I'm not sure you'll ever answer Because over the last few years of my life My fealty to you Has grown less and less steadfast.
Warmth. Drowsy. Burrowing into your chest, arms around my back. And then, like a gunshot, shaking. And tears. And disassociation.
Because I Love You, Please Eat. it's been three days and you are so shakey it's like you could crumble at any second. Breathe. in and out, it seems impossible in the moment
we're both alonebut the differencebetween us is thatyoure lonely,but im not.
Cut me open like you do those scars on your wrists. You use to hate the sight of blood, But now the sting and crimson oozing from your wrist has become your favorite addiction.
(The words below may be triggering to anyone with depression and/or anxiety..)
“Sorry.” One word, her life upon a page. Glinting barbed wire wrapped around thin arms; The suit of armor was also a cage, And words inside her head did much more harm.  
When people ask me why it looks like I play tic-tac-toe on my wrists, I tell 'em it's because that's where I can feel my body insisting Over, and over, and over again, That it's alive.  
  Why did I put up a fight
Pour my feelings into a jar and seal it That is how I feel inside I can't breathe Gasping for air Reaching out for someone to unseal this jar The jar is about to fall and shatter
swing the blade and bring it down hit the neck and free the cord let it wriggle                       and bleed a little bag the rest and bury the sword 
I always loved to help. So when I woke up for work, At four in the morning, And got socks from my sister's room, I wondered why she didn't ask to talk, Before taking 3 bottles of prozac and pills.  
Please Note: There is a trigger warning for this poem.   When I was 8 years old I felt you become so cold. Still, I tried to crawl in your lap for warmth
Please Note: There is a trigger warning for this poem.   As she covers her arms, she covers her whole world. A world rooted in pain With no gain Of freedom from The Blade.  
I sit in my room staring at the wall, trying to quiet my mind from its own chaos. I picture in my memory a beautiful color red, darker than a cardinal’s breast spilling onto the floor.
it’s the one four-letter word that doesn’t get censored in newspapers but instead gets thrown around in Call of Duty victories, “haha, dude i ****ed you!”, it’s not lust
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