Love's Sea ...see?

Love's Sea ...see?

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WpMetadataReadMatureComplete Sun, Apr 3, 202211m
Captive Reader- I've a Secret to tell... Lean in close now, I don't wish to yell. Not through my voice, It is silent now. Instead- Let this pen and this ink tell you how... Listen raptly, you may yet learn and see Something about how I came to be Inside out; In a Sanguine Sea. ~Few notes: first, you should know that this poem is one of several that are ACTUAL suicide notes. I wrote this in my darkest time, and truly intended to go though with it this time. Perhaps the only things that saved me was.. 1. the length of this bloody thing (the time it took to write everything all out).. 2. the fact I felt compelled to get my affairs in order first.. 3. (and arguably most important) I got CAUGHT! (ugh). So thankfully, my plans were thwarted, and here I am, able to share this monumentally dark period of my Life. ~the reason I am sharing this is NOT to advocate suicide people. As with all/most of my work- I wish only to share the PAIN, LONELINESS, DESPAIR, ANGST, etc that causes these darkest of thoughts and desires. If I can show even ONE person that they are not alone in the dark, then this poem will have served it's purpose. ~This poem will likely be quite triggering for some people. If you are suffering terribly, battling the dark, then this poem will either help you know that you are not alone.... OR it will send you over the edge. Please read responsibly. If you feel that this type of thing will only make you worse, then PLEASE do not read. I will be marking this particular poem as MATURE for this reason. (there is no sex, typical violence, etc in this piece) ~the original art for the cover came from the website loverofsadness.net I do not own the copyright to this photo. I edited it. *nor do I own any of the pictures inside the book* ~Please make sure to check out the last chapter- it is my 'victory dance' of surviving this dark chapter in my life. ~the copyright to all words is of course, mine. (like all my original poetry)
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I was kicked around like trash on the streets. I was the book that nobody could understand or read, but without a care, they were quick to rip out the pages. I screamed for attention, but time after time, I was ignored. Nobody noticed me, so I made myself at home in my own shadow. They say there's light at the end of the tunnel -- I searched and searched for it, but it could never be found. Therefore, I lost hope as I hid in the shade and endured what seemed like everlasting pain. The little hope I did have was snatched from my arms. My baby brother was my life, and they took my glimpse of hope away. Home. Is that a word? Maybe for a family of some kind, but for me, I never had a place to call home. I moved from place to place. Unstable foster care, fighting for my life in group homes, barely surviving in detention centers, and running away from being mistreated as I made many benches my temporary home. The only thing that I was familiar with was a black plastic bag containing my dirty rags. I am too young to know what it feels like to survive. These are the cards life has dealt me and I am not meant to win; however, I easily lose without trying. It is hard for me to find peace. I am paying for my mother's reckless actions. I am trapped in a world where the sun has died because I am unable to feel love. I am unable to dream. Sorrow is my aura, and the sadness hugs me. My eyes are closed shut by the barbed wire fence from my eyelashes as they prohibit tears from falling. I am damaged. When will the morning come? Did the sun put up a fight last night, like I do every single day? If I can survive the day, I know the sun isn't dead. One day, I will awake to a glorious sunrise. Until then, I hope my brother keeps blowing his pinwheel, and I will keep making wishes with every dandelion I come across. For now, all I know is that everything was taken from me, and the only thing I own is my name.

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