A Prose With No Direction

Reads 988
Votes 320
Parts 100
Time 5h 29m

Reads 988
Votes 320
Parts 100
Time 5h 29m

Mature

A prose with no direction.
A mind with no guidance.
A human without a purpose.

That is the kind of story I hate to be.
That is the kind of story I, unfortunately, am.All Rights Reserved

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100 parts

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This collection of poetry is my story. This is all the things I struggle or struggled with within myself, and most of these things I've overcome. The purpose of this collection is to help y'all understand that you're not alone. Enjoy.

Everyone suffers no matter how much we think we're alone, there maybe someone out there more disconnected from the rest of the world. If you had the power to help the other and didn't take it does that make you a bad person? If you had one chance to correct the world would you take it? If you were given one power what would it be? No matter what choice you make it will come haunting back to you. The good the bad there's a fine line between what people perceive as good and bad it's up to you to decide that.

Within this life you meet many people, see many faces, hear many names. Not many mean much in the end. I'm the one you always see last. The one who hides in plain sight I'm the one who creates your future but lives trapped by the past. The one who sees no light I am Death. Although this is my story it's focused on my heritage and those that I meet along my way. This is my journey to the next stage of my immortal plain because your destiny doesn't stop when you die, sometimes that's when it begins.

"THE TALE OF LEO: "THE COURAGEOUS SCORPIO" by Mis-Spelled_011

Dear avid reader, before you embark on the journey dwelling into the story mine life, I want to let you know that all you will read here are all TRUE. It is quite an adventure and I hope that you will find this hopeful, inspirational and you're gonna look beyond my failures in life. NOTE: WRITING IS NOT MY PROFESSION BUT IT IS A PART OF ME. I AM NOT GOOD IN WRITING STORIES. YOU MIGHT SEE GRAMMATICAL ERRORS AND OTHER TYPO WORDS.🥴 MY APOLOGIES IN ADVANCE IF I TURNED OUT TO BE RIGHT.

Bleed Me Out - A true Story of Psychological Abuse by XxItzyBitzyxX

This is a story. A true story. A story about what it's like to lose yourself because of someone else's words, or actions. A story about what it's like to be squeezed until every drop of self worth leaks from your body. A story about how someone else's influence can make you feel like you don't love yourself anymore. This is my story.

Sometimes we're scared of our own stories. Sometimes we're brave enough to tell them. Sometimes we can't move forward. Sometimes we are forced to. Sometimes people wish they were in our shoes. Sometimes they think we like what we have. Sometimes they envy us. Sometimes they destroy us. Sometimes we destroy them. And most of the time we are the destruction.

The way of life A book full of poems and prose about how I felt and what I went trough in life up to this point. Please be aware of the trigger warnings mentiont in the beginning. Some of the poems are already old. I am a lot better now, please don't worry. -Nex

A reader's honest thoughts about the stories that live. 📢 Disclaimer: This is just my personal opinion. While I will present my honest opinion as constructive criticism, I will not claim responsibility for broken hearts. So, read at your own risk.

This about my life. No lies, no storytelling. The truth. If it's not something you're interested in or have the stomach to read, please don't. I haven't changed names or places. The people I write in here, myself included, will be held accountable. I'm tired of being told to sit down and shut up. Tired of people not caring or willing to help.

"There comes a point where you no longer care if there's a light at the end of the tunnel or not. You're just sick of the tunnel." - Who I am doesn't matter. How I got here doesn't matter. What matters now is I'm getting help, right? That's what they tell me here. They tell me that the road to recovery feels like a terrible butt fuck, but the fact that you're on the path to begin with, is all that matters. So as I sit in this circle of fuck ups, I realize just how different I am from them. I didn't attempt suicide because my mother was a crack addict who didn't want me. My father wasn't abusive. I didn't have a sibling die in a car accident. I was never really bullied either. I attempted suicide because, for the first time in years, I thought I had found something that could make me feel again... and after not feeling much at all for far too long, perhaps I went a bit overboard

Validity

This collection of poetry is my story. This is all the things I struggle or struggled with within myself, and most of these things I've overcome. The purpose of this collection is to help y'all understand that you're not alone. Enjoy.

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