Copyright, Sara

Everyday I wake up hoping to die, but truly all I can really do is cry.

The little voice insides says “grab the knife and do it!” but my friends would never let me go trough with it.

You can hold the feeling inside any longer, you grab the knife and start to ponder.

As you sit there ont he bathroom floor, you wait and wait and wait somemore.

Finally, you put the knife to your wrist, as you clench the memories in your fist.

“Do it, Do it” is all you hear, you feel a little pinch of fear.

You slide the knife across your wrist, little by little the memories will leave from your fist.

Your almost done, you’ll end being no one.

There you’ve done it, you fought that battle of fear and won it.

It’s over now there is no more, as you lie there on the blood covered floor.

More poems by Sara…


Copyright, Stacey

Tears gush like they never did before
Dams of sadness bursting and pouring in torrents down my face
Suddenly, it all stops
Again, I fell divided from my feelings
They tumble and roar within me, but I am restricted from letting them emerge
Bound from expresing how I feel on the inside,
I try to show it on my skin
Sharp quick slashes with the razor
Retracing the blade — deeper and deeper
Now it is blood I am crying
Screaming to the world, ‘Fuck you! I’m not ok!’
The etchings on my forearm, the slices on my legs -
they all cry
‘Help me!’
My eyes remain dry.

More poems by Stacey…

I Try

Copyright, Steph

Day by day I make my way throughout the memories
It’s ‘carefully’, and ‘killing me’ and ‘now I’m in too deep’
And still I laugh, and still I smile like everything’s okay
And you don’t know, and you don’t care that I am out of faith

I’m sifting through the might have been’s and every now and then
I need some room to look into ‘do you remember when…’
But I am here, and I’m aware how far away I sometimes seem
You don’t know how every night I wish this were a dream

Now you want more than I can be and this I understand
Still, every day I summon up every ounce of strength I can
I live on with my own hell burning louder than your words
And through this all it’s been your voice I’ve more often heard

If you believe you can better me I will gladly let you in
And let you see reality; what a struggle this has been
So for the times I bow my head, and even though I cry
I want for you to realize, every single day, I try

More poems by Steph…


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