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Literature Text
"I'm fine" is a dirty lie.
The truth is that I want to die.
"I'm tired" is not even done.
It really means "I'm tired of being no one"
"I'm better" is but a curse.
The truth is that I've never been worse
"I'm just cold" is what I say
so my sleeves can hide my scars away.
"I already ate" is said with a frown.
I starve to see the numbers on the scale go down.
"I'm okay" is probably the worst.
It really means I'm about to burst.
All these things are lies to me.
But you take this as the truth because what else would I be?
Literature
Depression...
No, depression is not just getting sad.
It's a constant sadness that melts into your bones,
An indescribably heavy weight upon your shoulders,
Never mind your heart and soul.
It's believing so many lies (maybe because you've learned to accept them)
And no longer appreciating your self-worth.
Wishing you no longer existed, wishing yourself gone.
Depression holds you back from your dreams
And pulls you into a nightmare.
It takes full control of your existence.
It makes you never want to get out of bed,
And when you finally do,
You just want to get back in it.
But you know the hardest part?
Ignorant people.
Just.
Like.
You.
Literature
Stronger than Suicide
You are so much stronger than suicide.
You are so much more powerful than the cuts on your arm,
And so much better than your eating disorder.
So much more than your scars.
Darling,
Please look me in the eyes,
And show me your wounds,
Whether they be on your forearm,
Your wrist,
Your mind,
Or your heart.
Sweetheart,
Have you been skipping meals?
Have you been cutting?
Well, here’s something for you to try.
Think one thing,
Just one thing,
Every
Single
Day.
Just remember to prove to the world,
That you
Are stronger than
Suicide.
Literature
R.I.P.
Did anyone notice that she winced if you raised your arm?
Did anyone notice that her eyes were wide with alarm?
Did anyone notice that she never looked you in the eye?
Did anyone notice that her voice was but a sigh?
Did anyone notice that her skin was always bruised?
Did anyone question whether she might be abused?
Did anyone question why she walked in obvious fear?
Did anyone question why one day she did not appear?
Did anyone recognize her face on the six-o’clock news?
Did anyone see her remains pulled from the river refuse?
Did anyone care that this quiet girl no longer exists?
No. No one did. And she will never even be missed.
R.I
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Well... this is another poem for my feels about depression, self harm, etc. I know that there are many poems and drawings on DA to support people with depression and bring awareness, and mine will not help, but i just feel so strongly about it since ive had a friend confess his depression to me. so heres another one to all those peopel struggling out there, you are not alone and i think your awesome <3
© 2013 - 2024 Stanglass
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I can rap to this.