in the face of adversity
in the heat of battle
in other's time of need
when in trouble
when nothing makes sense
UntitledMy words are so cringe-inducing
rarely do I write well
my rhymes are all the same
so for a while I stopped saying them
my vision got real blurry
I couldn't see the path
tripping while I walk
I guess I still can't
I'm bad at moving on
I can never get with it
so when I like something
I seem to get addicted
it's because I'm all alone
I feel like no one gets me
I think she kinda did
but then again she isn't with me
UntitledI wanna run away, not from home
but to it, cause my mind's doing wrong
I mean the thing's stuck on stupid
my mind's in the gutter
like I was lobotomized
by a living a dumpster
I try to be crytic
but life's an open book
try to be happy
harder than it looks
is this a rush to the grave
cause I miss the days as a lonely ass kid
cause what's happening now
is worse than that shit
Damn right, like a dog's right behind me
tuck my head between my legs
kiss my own ass goodbye, but
enough with the buns
although I've got one more
I'll save it for the phone
that's what prank call's for
I don't really want money
just wanna live
use my art as a vessel
try and hit it big
don't wanna fuckin mansion
just wanna fall in love
my heart's in the right place
unless it's wrong..
UntitledI don't wanna be here
I guess that's kinda stupid
trying find a purpose
can it really lie in music
my head is a mess
and I ain't talking bout my haircut
I got some dark shit on my mind
like my cranium was blacktar
ex still on my mind
I don't think I'm fine
writing all these tragedies
based on my life
I guess this is reality
so what the fuck is happiness
except not a dream
VMy mood changes like the seasons
I'm always falling....ugh
my mind is kinda stuck
when you can't seem to b------------
my face is always on neutral -_-
cause I just don't give a fuck
yeah, depression is a thing
I've just gotten used to it
that's why I wanna make moves
and get into this music shit
I wanna be the best, that no one ever was
but my head is in a vice, like I crossed pathes with the mob
IVWhere'd it all go
the castle on the mountains peak
the luminescent t.v. screen
the plastic bag parachutes
the dining room with no A.C. unit
Sorry, I'm just be emo
I do that as a hobby
why not make it a living
cause finding peace is behind me
it's really only on me
I won't blame another person
not to say they didn't play a part in my hurting
What happened to fried potatos
the little onions
the white chocolate hershey
and a small bag of funions
where's the kid with innocence
envisioning some ridiculous
stories of delicious fish, a green badger
with a pack of mints
my minds been on money, pain, dreams, and nightmares
why the hell is it a girl that's the cause of my tears
IIIIf words can move mountains why don't they
if you're over her, why you still cringe when she's near
and you feel all surprised, someone blow in your ear?
Nope, you're caring too much
and you don't seem to hear
IIStill stuck on Spring, cause my spring's sprung
people still asking what went wrong
I think I obsess too much on
the one who wouldn't put a dress (in joke)
sorry for the broken hearted rhymes
I was going through broken record times
I'm still not better, but at least I won't lie
I've had bad thoughts, sometimes I wanna die
cause nothing's written in stone
that's why people get high
anxiety, a hierarchy of alone
varying degrees of a sickness
from a sick kid who stays at home
ISorry for the broken words
I'm like a bird, I flew the coop
my words of "endless sorrow"
made my niggas think I was looping
but I guess I really was
didn't want to admit
didn't see the fault
in my own stupid shit
A smidgen of smitenIt's really been a while
stuff building up inside
2011I was quiet
last year I felt like dying
I know it's kinda stupid
I think I think too much
it's the same with caring
when I shouldn't give a fuck
cause love was never here
so it's time to move along
I'm super sick of juggling
what went right and wrong
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
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.
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
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.
you're much stronger than you thinkI'll be the first to tell you
scissors don't need to be brought to a wrist
to cut deep
because cutting off your heart from you head,
or yourself from your dreams,
is also enough
to make you bleed
and there's ink spilled all over these pages,
and at times it seems tears
are cheaper than water from a spout:
these lines need diluted,
these blots are a dark, dark sea
and maybe I'm not too good at swimming,
even if it's just through a pool of ink
but I've learned if you just keep paddling,
you're much stronger than you think.
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.