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Literature Text
She's hurting,
She's breaking,
She's crying inside.
She's yelling,
She's screaming,
And hiding her eyes.
Yeah you wont,
hear a thing,
It's a-ll inside.
The hurting,
the screaming,
Her smile's a lie.
She stares out,
The window,
And wishes to die.
Or maybe,
When she'll jump,
She'll finally fly.
You cannot,
See her face,
She's hiding it all,
So you wont,
Yeah you wont,
See her fall...
Calm on the Oustside, written by Emma Thrussell, 27/11/12
Literature
Dear Poetry,
I am trying to cover my sadness with words.
Tape them against my scars
& wear them like worthy paper cuts.
My tears are alcohol swabs, burning & cleansing
wounds of my own making. Sometimes,
I wish I could hide behind them forever.
But not even this journeyed flesh can stand
castle strong against speechless ink stains.
I know the code. This body does not deserve
a warriors death. & poetry, you're a monster
a creative monster, but evil nonetheless.
I wish to string you into knots, force feed you
down the throats of others. De-format you
& leave you empty; freeversed-
to hang loosely along the heartstrings
of strangers
Literature
Is It Wrong?
Is it wrong
That I glance up at the clouds,
Feeling the wind through my hair,
And dream of a mystifying land
Where one can be accepted no matter what?
Is it wrong
That I choose to wear jeans down past my heels,
Baggy and ripped at the knees,
Unlike all the other boys that wear athletic
Shorts, so unscathed and clean?
Is it wrong
That I ask people about their troubles,
Sometimes doing all in my mortal power
To help them surpass the simple,
Even ones I have not defeated myself?
Is it wrong
That while the few friends I have
Dance around giddily and go to
The most extreme only to impress,
But I only hang back in silent content
Literature
I'm Really Not Okay
When I whisper of my woes
How can anyone hear
When the din of their own lives
Is ringing in their ears
Forcing a smile as they glance
Frown as they look away
Please somebody turn around
I'm really not okay
You refuse to see the signs
A deluge of denial
Drowns out my facial features
The absence of a smile
Obliged to ask how I am
Your concerns I allay
But then again I would do
I'm really not okay
Hold back the transparent tears
A dam of repression
I'll be damned if anyone
Sees through my confession
Slowly my world unravels
Life's tapestry will fray
My pain has been tailor made
I'm really not okay
I write poems
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This poem talks about the internal screaming many people suffering from depression, and other illnesses, go through most every day. While they seem at peace and perfectly calm on the outside, there is the pain, suffering, and noise inside the person's head. However, not all people have the internal noise, many people have complete silence. This is a second form of depression, and not one I know much about. I suffer from 'angry depression' which is what the poem follows, and I often find myself cursing, in my mind, to not only fellow students, but also teachers and friends and other innocent people that did nothing to anger me except exist.
I wrote this poem in Home Economics today, looking out the window and wishing my teacher would let us do something productive. I'm not having a very good week so far. Might just be the holiday mode starting up early. Who knows.
Critiques are welcome, and a nice little comment telling me you've read it would be much appreciated. ^_^
I wrote this poem in Home Economics today, looking out the window and wishing my teacher would let us do something productive. I'm not having a very good week so far. Might just be the holiday mode starting up early. Who knows.
Critiques are welcome, and a nice little comment telling me you've read it would be much appreciated. ^_^
© 2012 - 2024 StarSpinner678
Comments73
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Now that's tragically beautiful.
I don't even know how to say this without sounding sarcastic, but it really is.
I don't even know how to say this without sounding sarcastic, but it really is.