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#depression poetry
diarygenxer · 23 minutes ago
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I’m stuck on the couch.
Tear residue on my face.
Heart throbbing with pain.
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still-beliefs · an hour ago
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Wandering out there
Insecure in the footprints you leave
Press hard, soft
It doesn’t matter because what will stay
Lives inside us and not around us
If you haven’t noticed
Tomorrow could be entirely different
It’s all subjective
Relative to the amount of stress I feel
Pummeling these shoulders down to the ground
A hammer to nails
I have no tales left to tell I just
Want to make memories but
No one is here
Like testing a microphone
I’d love to hear one annoyed ugh
A hollow scowl
We meet eyes but you don’t meet me
In the spiritual plane where I walk confidently
Like it’s beneath me even here in this
Fucking god damn eternal hell
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imonlyherewhenimsad · an hour ago
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just another small cut
blood letting used to be medical practice how much is prescribed to fix my head back to normal another drop in the bucket another grain of sand oceans and oceans of death practice
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I’m beginning a new project on Instagram if you’d like to follow along
https://instagram.com/poetically.allison?igshid=ks1vhxor2icu
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lordmorzan · 3 hours ago
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I should be used to it
I should be accustomed to being
forgotten
Insignificant 
I should be grateful to have been
known
Until reality shatters me
Forsaken again
Destined for nothing but the
suffocating isolation
And a helpless plea for death
The disillusions of life
Wrap me in shadows
Of the endless echo: what 
could I have done?
Nothing.
Who am I but nothing
Unmemorable
Unlovable
Unworthy
A ghost caught in time
Forced to dwell among the seen
Out of place and out of mind
I’ve always had a fascination with
hauntings
Of cumulative grief held captive
through tragedy and obsession
To feel everything so deeply
Holds me in a nightmare
While life evades me
The staircase creaks under the
phantom weight of old potential
A silent ghost lingers
In a dark attic
Imagining untouchable stars
That burn and shine
The suffering is inconsequential.
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xdarlingimtryingx · 4 hours ago
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Silence is never the same,
I heard your voice
Your laugh..
I knew what you aspired to be,
I knew past the shell..
The copy that you tried
To show everyone,
You were strong..
I wish I could of done more..
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xdarlingimtryingx · 4 hours ago
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We use to talk so much,
About things that didn't matter..
Until you couldn't take it anymore,
We were young,
I was dumb..
If things could change
I would of listened more
Even though I was drowning myself..
Losing you
I lost more than just you..
I'm sorry
I wasn't there for you
But what more
Could I have done..
.
This happened a while ago, I'm still recovering and that's okay. I am okay I just miss them is all
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chucklinggg · 4 hours ago
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I am listless and cold,
the curtain shuffles 
my hair wavers, then falls 
The brow tingles,
I shift my gaze,
the skin is mountainous and blue, 
I ought to move:
stretch out the hands
sweep up the hair
untangle the legs
wriggle the toes,
but still I remain.
I watch the light change
the shadows halve, 
the doorbell rings.
Once, 
Twice,
Thrice, 
The foot meets the ground,
Then the other,
The rest complies and I,
stumble, 
drunk-like I trudge, 
I open the door,
White light blinds
while I nod.
The pen swings wildly, 
my initials stare back, 
a slanted mess. 
I catch my reflection:
the mismatched pyjama, 
the bird-nest of hair.
I run my tongue 
over the crusted corners
of my mouth.
Dispassionate, where once
I’d be filled with shame. 
I turn away, 
lay down the mysterious,
brown-paper clad package.
It’s neatly sealed corners
mocking their new surroundings.
I still.
There is annoyance brimming.
How dare this inanimate box, 
make me feel?
I push it off and 
watch it fall. 
It lands and looks like
somehow it was meant to 
be there, 
in the mess, 
like it wasn’t just discarded.
Now,
I am too unsettled to go back 
to my resting chair,
and to look at nothing 
and attempt to feel
the little I crave.
I jump in the shower,
the stream pushing at 
the days’ old grime.
The annoyance dims,
I feel anew,
still bruised, but yet, 
no longer so sore.
I pick up the box
ripping,
pulling, 
at the edge of the tape.
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lunar-nebula · 5 hours ago
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2 - a thorn
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when you have a thorn in your heart all the good around slowly fades away.
like receding lights from the entrance of a tunnel.
a tunnel that never ends.
a tunnel where you never see the exit.
when the thorn grows into a vine it's like a stain that covers your heart.
it slowly consumes it whole
your limbs are weighted down.
falling into a dark pit.
you can see the light, but it gets smaller and smaller until it is unobservable.
you can't breathe; it hurts to breath.
you want to escape but you can't.
no matter how hard you try.
that's what hurts the most.
you can't do anything about it.
weak.
vulnerable.
alone.
afraid to live, but scared of death.
you have nowhere to go.
when you stop fighting back; the pit swallows you whole.
but the pit is your mind.
and that is the most bleak part.
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rosallorona1 · 6 hours ago
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I wanna message you.
Tell me my love.
Why don’t you love me.
Like I love you.
Why your eyes are enchanting.
And mine are boring to you.
He looked at me.
Like I was an angel.
You look at me.
Like I’m a ghost.
Tell me my love.
If my pain bother you.
You kiss and tell.
Your friends think I’m crazy.
For begging you to kiss me.
Why your lips feel like heaven.
And mine taste like pure emptiness.
He kissed me.
Like I was an elixir.
You kissed me.
Like I was acid.
If you didn’t exist.
I would search a way.
To bring you here.
If I didn’t exist.
You would replace me.
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--
Like and reblog.
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the worst part
the worst part right now
is not the pain,
not the sadness,
not the loneliness ,
but...
the worst part is...
the feeling that I‘ve given up.
given up not only on recovering,
not only on my life,
but on myself.
the worst part is when I‘m laying down,
and I don‘t want to use harm to cope,
I don‘t want to cut my skin open,
or to hit my body ‘till I see a beautiful purple
shine through,
like I used to.
because the worst part is,
that with every minute passing,
another piece of myself has given up,
until the puzzle is fulfilled,
and I will not dare to move anymore.
the worst part is,
that when I finally let go...
I‘ll just stay,
and wait until my body
dries out every last ounce of water and food
within me.
so that all that‘d be left of me,
will be the body that finally matches
my suffering.
and that is the worst part.
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pulledfrom0rbit · 6 hours ago
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A little poem I wrote
Tw: anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts, drowning
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vodkadietcokes175 · 7 hours ago
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My child surprised me today
Sometimes I think God gave me him to see the world through different eyes.
My child told me today he used to be so worried about me
That he used to see me crying
That the “bad man” (my ex) would yell so loud
My child surprised me today
He is so resilient to things he should’ve never had to see
And I saw myself in my child today
I saw my small hands holding my mom as she cried
I tried to save her from the yelling
From the “bad man” that drank too much and got so loud
My child showed me this empty house I’ve been so sad in, is filled with peace and quiet and love.
And the loud is gone.
The pain is gone.
My child surprised me today.
He made my sadness go away.
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red-ink--black-blood · 8 hours ago
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4-19-21
You want me to be my true self, but what if my true self isn’t who you want?
You want me to go with you, do with you, and I play along because it is what you want.
You want me to do what makes me happy, but those things make you so unhappy.
You want me to share my thoughts with you, but they always turn to knives on their way out.
You want me to be my true self, but what if my true self is a pathetic little monster?
What if my true self isn’t human anymore, but a tired remnant of the soul you say you love?
What if I nurse that self back to health and you don’t love it anymore?
What if I let it whither and die until all I am is what you wanted all along?
Would you still ask to see my true self?
Would you care that you have killed it?
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worldofharley · 11 hours ago
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Sedentary
This is something of a curse,Gouged runes in every limb,A spell since birth,This resistance to movement,Innate in my being,An unwelcome piece of my soul,I’m a sloth in pyjamas,My hair glued to a pillow,From work or strain,I hide under unwashed laundry,Peeking out from behind hazy chalices,Still sat amongst last nights supper,I’m an acolyte in bed sheets,This sedentary religion has taken me by…
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voncloud · 13 hours ago
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Project +
(Spoken Word) Use earphones. https://originaldante.files.wordpress.com/2021/04/project-.wav You can find more of my Spoken Word here – O.D. ©2021 Art by:  escume Instrumentals: Matt Large
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