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Literature Text
It begins with a wish
and ends with a sigh.
I am in love with boys who
don't exist and girls who I sometimes
pretend are myself. Spineless,
spiteful, and one hundred percent
sporadic,
I'm becoming undone.
When I was
younger I thought it
was a sin if
your parents didn't
love each other. Now I
know that it's
just the way this world works.
And hell,
I need you right now;
to tell me that
gaining four pounds in
three days is typical
to tell me that
living in a dream every
second is perfectly okay
to tell me that
I'm normal, that I'm
still sane, that I'm not
going to close my
eyes one day and never
open them again.
Don't look at me.
Please, just
don't look
at me.
I can't remember
the last time I
had no regrets.
and ends with a sigh.
I am in love with boys who
don't exist and girls who I sometimes
pretend are myself. Spineless,
spiteful, and one hundred percent
sporadic,
I'm becoming undone.
When I was
younger I thought it
was a sin if
your parents didn't
love each other. Now I
know that it's
just the way this world works.
And hell,
I need you right now;
to tell me that
gaining four pounds in
three days is typical
to tell me that
living in a dream every
second is perfectly okay
to tell me that
I'm normal, that I'm
still sane, that I'm not
going to close my
eyes one day and never
open them again.
Don't look at me.
Please, just
don't look
at me.
I can't remember
the last time I
had no regrets.
Literature
You said....
You told me “friends forever”,
More like ‘friends for now’,
As your sweet promises
Were just lies I allowed.
You said “we are best friends”,
More like ‘friends at best’,
As your solid affirmations
Were all digressed.
You told me “I need you”
More like ‘you need me’
As your statements
Were my last plea.
Why did you go?
Why did you leave?
I’m left here all alone
Trying, in us, to believe.
Literature
To be a writer
You taste like decaying leaves
and October's bad habits-
when it’s halfway through February
that still haunts these bones.
I have allowed you to
claw your love
into my arms
and chant into my
uninterested ears
for much too long.
I wish I was one of those girls
who could say wild flowers
grow up through my nooks
and my crannies just to tear
through my skin, screaming.
I’m just that dead eyed deer
on the side of the road dreaming
of shoving a pen down my throat
and writing these verses inside out.
I am no scribe, prophet, or spell caster.
I know it.
My skin knows it.
My pen knows it too.
Years and years
from now
my mind will d
Literature
This Thing We Call Depression
There's a story I'd like to tell,
A story of a girl who was diagnosed.
Diagnosed with a terrifying thing,
Something that would threaten her life for years to come.
Something that she could never escape,
No matter how she ran,
No matter how she struggled.
This diagnosis was a horrific thing to the girl,
Although, not surprising at all.
The symptoms had swallowed her for days,
Weeks,
Months.
Months of this thing inside of her.
This thing that we call
Depression.
There are people who tell her,
"You're only sad."
However, that isn't the case.
See, she was never diagnosed with sadness.
Everyone knows sadness.
She was never diagnosed with emo
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I don't know who (what) I am anymore and I'm sorry.
I wish you were here and not just in my head.
© 2013 - 2024 lupus-astra
Comments159
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Is it good to know you're not alone, or is it bad to know that others share your pain? Fantastic expression you have regardless.