POPPING PILLS
- LECTURES 21
- Votes 2
- Chapitres 1
an original song I wrote about pain self medication/harm depression and therapists shoving meds down ur throat too and hopefully it ends up helping people find comfort that they aren't crazy and are far from the only ones trapped in a bubble of pain 💕ANTIDRUGGIE here btw
Tous Droits Réservés
#979
bringmethehorizon
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It does get better.
People say it will get better. But to be fair, most of them never were in your place. They say you will get happy again, but how can they know? I've struggled with trauma, mental illnesses, and self harm for many years. These are (mostly) poems - about me and my journey of getting better. ! As this is about self harm and other previously mentioned topics, it might be triggering. I don't glorify it in any way, though. I'm also not a native English speaker. If you find any mistakes, please tell me so I can improve.
Poems (collection 1.0)
please don't read this (i laugh here, but i'm not joking). this is a relic. consider this the museum of my progression in writing. you can find the better (marginally) stuff from this one in "Poems (collection 2.0)". Thoughtful, often sad, and angry poems. It's an outlet. A way to be heard. Not genius; only jumbled messes of the multitude of my thoughts fighting their way out of my brain. There's so much I want to say, but not enough time to say it. Here are my attempts.Terminé
Not Afraid Anymore|halsanie
"You're not allowed to touch yourself, or I'm gonna punish you. And your not gonna like it when I punish you kitten" A lot of smut, a lot. Just saying.Terminé
A Match to Water
Laying on the ground I couldn’t tell if I was alive or on the verge of death. I felt alive, but I was in a corpses body. But of course, if I was dead who would really care? Parents? My ‘friends’? My relatives, oh I don’t even want to think about that.. No one would really care..at least that is what I thought. Looking over at my wrists I see the familiar red color coming out, but it was worse. Much worse. Feeling my eyes start to close of fatigue I let them fall, I’m tired...all I need is a little..rest. The loud slamming of a door comes to my ears but I pay no attention, it was probably just the wind or my dad coming home not knowing his own strength and breaking the door. But that wasn’t on my mind right now. Rest. Thats all I need. A break. A time out. A chance to get away. Just a little time. One thing that came to my mind was that song. That song. I was absolute in love with that song, though I never really knew why. It was just that feeling inside that, made you feel connected. Yes. That song. Pierce the Veil, oh his voice is beautiful.. Just can calm me and make me fall asleep. On the verge of life or death I feel like, I’m floating. Something is holding me. Either the arms of angels or demons I don’t know. Just I was floating. The grip around me gets tighter, it wasn’t flames or clouds that I was getting lowered into. It was softer than clouds. It was one of the best places. I obviously have been here at least once, or I wasn’t at all. Maybe in one of my dreams. In a daydream. I wasn’t sure. But whatever or whoever this was made me feel comfortable, something that I haven’t been able to have. I hear this low voice above right above me, it was sad, full of regret, and most of all wanting. Begging. Pleading. Screaming. Crying. “Wake up! I know you can hear me!”Terminé
𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒; 𝘐𝘛 𝘊𝘈𝘚𝘛
» 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴. ⧼ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉᵈ √ ⧽Terminé
Monsters Inside My Head
WARNING: Some pieces may contain triggers for those who struggle with any form of depression or self harm. Please read with caution. I will often rearrange the chapters in the way I see fit, so please be patient and keep that in mind. This is my first attempt at poetry. It will consist of shit that I've gone through/dealt with and ramblings from my screwed up mind. These works are purely fictional and not meant to be taken literally.Terminé
𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺
𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭.Terminé
A Little Broken
I never knew he was famous..... but, I don't care. he helped me. I love him. do I? yes..... but with my problems? my fucked up life? how can he possible love me? I'm disgusted with myself. I'm worthless. but he loves me.... he does? yes. Indeed. he does.Terminé
People say it will get better. But to be fair, most of them never were in your place. They say you will get happy again, but how can they know? I've struggled with trauma, mental illnesses, and self harm for many years. These are (mostly) poems - about me and my journey of getting better. ! As this is about self harm and other previously mentioned topics, it might be triggering. I don't glorify it in any way, though. I'm also not a native English speaker. If you find any mistakes, please tell me so I can improve.
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