It was 28 days ago
I came home, hood up
That it couldn't possibly get worse
Because it just couldn't
This was a new low
When I needed a new high
And hope left like
She had never been there before
CliffThere were better things to do than to dwell on the past. Jay knew that. She moved on.
That's what she told herself.
Lies, a voice inside her mind hissed. Lies.
Her bluejay wings were spread out, catching the wind as she sat on the sandstone cliff. There was a sharp rock at the bottom. If hit, instant KO. If she didn't, injuries for life.
One tentative step at a time, she walked closer to the edge. She didn't remember the first time she was here, thinking about this. Or the last time. Or the times in between. She only remembered the pain and the sorrow.
Nick. The testing. The almost-pregnancy. The twenty-four killings. Nick. Nick. Nick.
She could never forget Nick.
As sandstone crumbled beneath her feet, she cringed. Her wings flapped twice, by instinct, carrying her to safety. She paused for just a moment to think. This...was it...and it would be a fitting end for an avian. She could save herself. It was a her choice. If she chose.
One more tenattive step. Closer. Closer.
she may have lost all she had to liars
but that doesn't mean
can steal all she has left
QuestionHinata couldn't help it.
It was those emerald green orbs, those shining eyes that captivated her the most. Followed by his spiky milk-coffee colored hair and the ever-present frown he had on his face.
He definitely didn't know that she ever even had a remote thought of liking him. Kanata always assumed that they were best friends, the two immature toddlers who ran around together since they were little.
And he had always hated that situation. The faster he turned it around to his favor, he concluded, the better off his life would be.
When they were little, they wanted to get married. The thought amused Hinata now, since she knew that he liked that girl who sat in front of him in history class. Fact and closed case.
It never occurred to Hinata that Kanata would have more than friendly emotions towards the girl he had known since forever.
"Hinata," Kanata called for the thousandth time, "why're ya spacin' out?"
Hinata blinked twice. "Huh?" she asked, her midnight purple eyes looking up a
Teardrops Pt. 4Fairy tales
I can only imagine
That I don't have to leave everything behind next month
That I don't need to be afraid of the future
Where I will be alone in a world of predators
And a land of monsters
I don't want to be alone
But I scared the world away
And created more with each pain day
And why should they fade?
Why would they fade?
When I am defined by them?
This is reality
Pain without a soothing ointment
Bloody wounds without bandages
Falling apart like spacecraft in the atmosphere
These are tears
For what everything once was
What clear skies and dark days
Pouring rain and better times
But never coming
One has to say goodbye to forever one day
Because forever is a nonexistent concept
Despite the dream of perfection
And the idea that everything
Is going right and going straight
The world crumbles beneath your unsuspecting feet
And you fall
And you wonder
Teardrops Pt. 3I'm sorry
I failed you
And I failed everyone else too
While I was at it
Now everything is all
TeardropsOne shouldn't take tears lightly
Dripping drops of
I don't want to see again
And nothing in the world is the same
Let GoOne day
I dream to be the girl who doesn’t
Cry herself to sleep at night
Only to be whipped awake
By whatever comes my way
To be the girl
Who doesn’t wish to run
Away for a second chance
To be that girl
Who can do what her dreams
Decide to tell her
And the one
Who can love
But I am the girl who
Cries at night
To sleep for a few sweet
Moments after saving a life
But before waking to the
Sound of yelling and more
And I am the girl who
Wants to start fresh
Somewhere new and away
From this scary place
But no, I can’t be
Dreams, bombed, just a few feet from home
And I can’t love you
And I want to
But you hurt me
But i still
Ever let go
127: It Don't Care, I DoThe road don't care where you run off to
As long as shaking feet fall upon
It's crumbling pavement
And the steady ba-thump ba-thump
Beats like a drum
The road don't care if you're crying
Your broken heart out
And it don't care if you're long gone
It don't matter where you go
As long as you're gone
But I do
I can't live without your beautiful smile
I don't think you know
But tears don't mean a better tomorrow
They just mean you're crying for a better yesterday
Dear DepressionDear Depression,
I remember so perfectly
The moment I met you.
I was nine years of age,
Wearing a pale pink dress,
My hair curled elegantly,
Falling gently around my shoulders.
And, ha! I thought it would last,
But was I wrong, oh, was I wrong.
I remember the moment someone
Impaled my mind with their opinions
Of who I was as
That, dearest Depression, is the moment
I understood what it meant
And, although it was you,
Who made it hurt,
Who made it throb
And made my thoughts thrash within my
You were my friend.
I turned to you,
my 36-day-long sadness.
I loved you.
But it killed me.
Loving you made me aware
Of what "suicide" was,
And more importantly,
Why is existed.
Loving you brought me happy little moments
Cuts on my thighs.
I listened to you, oh, Depression...
"Find the nearest scarf, rope, thick string"
You'd say these things
Echoing in my bedroom
to the woman who drowned herself in the bathtub.i.
to the woman who drowned herself in the bathtub:
in the magazine I own that published your story,
they blurred out the crime scene photographs,
erasing your face and
the full curves of your breasts.
some part of me wonders
if you would have wanted this,
or if you would have liked for
the public to see you in your final moments,
half-soaked in grey-looking water,
your hair in strings, glued to the porcelain,
eyes closed and mouth gaping,
no breath stirring, no bubbles rising.
sometimes when I look
into the depths of my bathroom sink,
I hear your voice
(or what I imagine it to be--
after all, we never met).
you sit on the edge of the toilet seat,
and chat to me about the weather.
I would give anything to hear your real, living voice,
to ask you what you were thinking
as you lowered yourself
into the tub, queen of the tendrils of steam,
and let your lungs deflate like old birthday balloons.
on the news they say that your autopsy
revealed three quarters
of a bottle o
Thoughts on Growing UpThoughts on Growing Up
I exist more inside of my mind
Than in reality.
I am not sure what I am trying to find.
I think I am trying to lose
I liked the sing song of nursery rhymes
Before I knew the story behind them.
I liked the way the world looked
Before I could read between its lines.
They sound nothing like my little kid lullabies.
Everything seems to remind me
Of how it will never be
What I wished it was.
I thought growing up was supposed to make me stand tall.
My veins are roots
Digging themselves into the ground.
But nobody ever warned me
Of the tree snapping
And I feel like a little kid,
I’ve got bright eyes and scraped up knees.
The scratches so alive and raw.
You use grown up band aids
To cover up your wide eyed dreams.
But I was never one for reality.
Keep your band aids.
I’ll make my own way to the Neverland
That I dreamed of.
I’ll make my own lullaby.
Art and Other WeaponsI use words like an anchor.
Tying myself down to a piece of paper.
In books my heroes used swords,
I use a pen.
I got a mind as violent as a hurricane.
I could use these words to build me a raft.
Because it’s the only weapon I have.
And this pen isn’t what it looks like.
I finally found some sort of voice.
I can use it. These thoughts inside our heads are like bombs, so let’s defuse it.
It’s my torch.
I could burn the shadows, set fire to these fears.
I could use ink instead of tears.
I could use books and poetry like a night light
Because I never liked the dark anyways.
I could use it like a head stone…
Writing about all of my friends who couldn’t find a flash light
I could write and write
Until my skin was stained with lilies made of ink.
I write because I think
And when you think too much there is no escape.
So I say, when everything is too much
Little dream weaver, you have all the pieces.
Arm yourself with a paint brush,
Depression is an OptionDepression is a choice, my dear,
And happiness the same
You choose this illness, don’t you?
What a tragic little game.
Depression is an option, love
Just get up out of bed
Take your tears and worries
And just smile now instead.
Depression is a choice, you see,
And so is suicide.
Just sit back, kick your feet up, dear
Enjoy this perfect ride.
Get over your own standards
Of what everyone should be.
Just smile for once, and maybe
You’ll be living perfectly.
Depression is an illness
That we feel so deep within.
Why would anybody choose
To write poetry on their skin?
Unless there lies a reason, dear,
I would not choose to die.
If depression was an option...
I’d choose to say goodbye.
HetaliaxDepressed!Reader:Self-Inflicted AchromaticHetalia x Scary! Depressed! Reader: Self-Inflicted Achromatic
I want to be a person just like you, don't you see?
I want to be a person who is still being "me"
A tired sigh escaped your lips. You were just so damn tired. The other countries said that you, (f/n) or (c/n), was scarier than Russia himself. But of course, you have lived 2500 years with wars and bloodshed always trailing after you. You just really want to be happy. But all those wars and blood imprinted on your mind, you really just released off a dark (a/c) aura and a stoic atmosphere.
It really would be nice but I'm paying a price
'Cause I'd really, not be me and that would not suffice
You asked yourself, "I know my face doesn't show my pain. But isn't it obvious in my eyes? I'm lonely and hurt" You rubbed your numb (s/c) wrist, yesterday's cuts still had a colorless ache to it. You picked your silver knife, twirling it around watching the others argue. The said knife is the one you also use to cut yourself.
A dream which
Trapped WithinShut up!
I don't want to listen anymore.
Get out of my head!
I can't depend on anyone.
There is no way to save me.
If it's up to me to make the voices leave,
I am powerless.
All I can do is try and drown them out with music.
I find myself closing up.
No need to worry anyone.
sometimes pain is the only way to tone things down.
I really hope things change.
Whispers of the sweet release offered by a blade seduce.
I can't though.
I have reasons not to.
I want to be free,
but I can't escape myself.
People are busy.
People are stressed.
People are sick.
Who am I supposed to talk to?
Who could I trust?
I can only cry and crank the volume of my music.
Sleep would be best,
but I can only sleep so much.
Go away go away GO AWAY!!!
and take my pain with you!
I am such an idiot.
An Angel's Promise'Thou art mine,
And so thou shall remain.'
I will not let you have any other before me,
Nor can there be any after.
For it is your soul that I have shared
And it is your soul that I do take.
Your worship is the blood that flows through me.
Your praise is the heart that pumps life into my veins.
I have accepted that which is torn;
And if you are not whole before me,
Then by my will and word,
You shall be made whole.
So fear not this frigid world,
Though its cold bites deeply into your flesh.
I shall take that which has been torn from you
And weep life into it,
Until only warmth remains.
For thou art already mine,
And so thou shall remain.
For My PeopleAs far as I can recall:
I did not ask to be birthed
Into a cycle of stagnation.
I did not ask to be told,
That my dreams are achievable;
Only to see them limited by the scope of reality.
I did not ask for a failing system,
Passed unto me by half-dead corpses wearing suits.
Nodding eagerly at one another,
As they wait for an inevitable death.
This I did not ask for,
And I am certain that most of you did not either.
But it is for that reason,
And for that reason alone, I say:
That it is up to us,
We siblings bound by the chains of our forefathers,
To create a system that is better,
Than the bitter shackles of the past.
Justice is what I long for.
Justice for MY people.