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Literature Text
Failure washes over me
In stinking waves of self-loathing and misery.
I am not any less than anyone
So why does it take such a toll on my heart?
It seeps into the very bone
And my existence is nothing but short of art,
Of credit, of simple purpose.
I am left to feel the putridity of my soul,
To dive in those ruthless thoughts
Taking apart my being, whole,
Leaving the body to deal with the aftermath.
I long for the day I'll feel nothing.
As an empty shell, a corpse,
When indeed I'll be nothing.
Just so I can go on living.
In stinking waves of self-loathing and misery.
I am not any less than anyone
So why does it take such a toll on my heart?
It seeps into the very bone
And my existence is nothing but short of art,
Of credit, of simple purpose.
I am left to feel the putridity of my soul,
To dive in those ruthless thoughts
Taking apart my being, whole,
Leaving the body to deal with the aftermath.
I long for the day I'll feel nothing.
As an empty shell, a corpse,
When indeed I'll be nothing.
Just so I can go on living.
Literature
solitary confinement
there’s a terror with its claws so deep in my heart
that they only hurt when it shifts or squirms in my chest
i always forget the way that kisses
pour thickly down my throat like too much honey
and smother me
i always forget how the moon only ever speaks to me
in the cold and in the dark
when it’s sure no one else is there to hear
Literature
I Need a Break
I need a break
From all the hate
And the troubles it causes.
It's problematic and useless.
I want a moment of
Peace. A time where
I can sit peacefully in my
Safe haven.
To de-stress
From all negativity
And whip up the games
That were memorable in my childhood.
Pick up a good book and
Cozy up with a relaxing cup of tea.
From the homework
And tests needed to be done.
Is it worth
My time?
The yelling and thrashing
Of people's tantrums,
That I can't handle.
Blaming everything on
Myself, and only me.
It's always my
Fault.
I need a break
From the
Loneliness,
Dwelling in my heart.
Confined in my room,
Frightened of the world,
And the people
Literature
on distance
this is how the distance kills you
and this is how the kilometres stretch
across your skin like little scales on a map
too uniform to measure out
your longing. they run down your hands
that are always empty and across
the spaces to someone whose hands
may or may not be collecting
the moments you couldn't be bothered
to count. you only know that
they all fall under the category of
another time when i was alone.
you take walks. or try to.
you end up sitting
by your front door, shoes half-laced,
and you tell yourself that this is only
the first time, that you are allowed
time to dissipate and wonder
how many synonyms there are for
lost.
you
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I guess this is the result of dealing with depression?
In case anyone worries, I am not thinking of killing myself xD just so you know.
In case anyone worries, I am not thinking of killing myself xD just so you know.
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Comments3
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a bit morbid
die for living another life
forget to be reborn
die for living another life
forget to be reborn