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Literature Text
Home alone,
With a gun,
And a knife.
Done with yelling,
Done with fights,
Just wanting to end their life.
Never being happy,
Never being proud.
Crying hard,
With pain screaming loud.
Wanting the suffering to end,
With no one to call,
Not even a "Friend".
Cuts have been made,
Everything going red.
Can finally end the pain,
With a bullet to the head.
A gun,
And a knife,
That's all it takes,
To end a life.
With a gun,
And a knife.
Done with yelling,
Done with fights,
Just wanting to end their life.
Never being happy,
Never being proud.
Crying hard,
With pain screaming loud.
Wanting the suffering to end,
With no one to call,
Not even a "Friend".
Cuts have been made,
Everything going red.
Can finally end the pain,
With a bullet to the head.
A gun,
And a knife,
That's all it takes,
To end a life.
Literature
The Ballad For Those Still Mourned
Sail to seam, my apocalyptic dream.
Move onward to the dilated opium, breathe
in and taste hope in homeland heir.
Be bold - dare to defy finite odes.
Become the soldier, the suit - the armor;
garner of humanity and desolate earth.
Turn tidal-swells of warfare, silently
reprobate the crown, sing of homage, bring
peace with the sound of war burned down.
Sheath the slaying shore,
boast the bounding door.
Articulate the arts of war
and decimate the depths-adore.
Finish the dream, the ode, the chord
of men still mourned.
Literature
I'm Alive..?
Don't try to see the good in me
Cause it's hidden behind lock and key
I never let anyone inside
Won't let them wipe the tears I've cried
I don't think they'd really care
If they knew of all the scars I bear
They try to make me feel less worthless
But I know that I deserve this
For still having a beating heart
I'm trying not to fall apart
But you
Just take me
Make me feel
Erase these lies
Tell me what's real
Hold me close
Hold me all night
Make me feel like
I'm alive.
Literature
Trigger
Betrayal and derision
Were the bullets in your gun,
And you shot with the skill and precision
Of a seasoned marksman.
But just as I was expiring
on the edge of existence,
You decided that the sea
Would not carry me
Off to a diluted heaven.
You brought me back,
Back in the lonely tower,
Where you fed me lies, coated in sugary syllables,
Pretending they were medicine.
You rubbed salt in to my wounds as you stitched them shut.
I needed rest.
While I slept,
You blocked off paths
that might have led to another's hospitality.
Demons were outside the window.
They watched as I suffered,
Hoping I would die.
But I could not.
Slowly, painfully,
I
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Comments7
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If this is based on a true story, then I am very sorry for that. But also, this poem just really makes me feel deep emotions; I like the raw pain this is written with, and I think it does accurately capture the pain of people who are in situations like this who are very depressed and contemplating suicide. It just feels real, like you are going into somebodies world!! And something about this poem makes me want to hope more and find happiness. So very beautiful work!!