Dysphoria
- Reads 1,321
- Votes 4
- Parts 97
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My Poetry Escape
I may just be a girl. No one special. Nothing compared to others. In the eyes of the universe, I am just a little speck of dust. My light may not shine very bright, and it may not be of any use, but I am me. Writing is my only escape out of this world. I cry rivers of ink and climb mountains of words. I may not write as well as others, but my writing is just a different style. They're my feelings. I really do hope you can connect to some of the work in here. Please, do not copy any of this work without informing me first. Thank you! "My Escape" I have a supply, In the closet near my bed, Of past memories, Hanging by a thread. A thread, Connected to my mind, That thread, Just follows me around. I have a hole, In the middle of my heart, That hole fills up, When someone's torn apart. I have a tear, Accompanying my lonely eye, Knowing, whenever I'm alone, I can sit in a corner and cry. Even though, These things are there, I still have ink, a notebook, and a pen, To care. I write and write, To my heart's desire, New feelings erupt, By the hour. Writing is, My one escape, In this cruel and careless world, I have the power, to awake. "A Story Without Words" A story told, In a little tune, A golden smile, And a shining tear, Rolling down my cheek. A little breeze, The nice sun, A marvelous day, Turned into a wet one. The memories dripped, Down on my cotton white shirt, Leaving stains, On my malicious heart. Your smile, Worth a thousand words, Can't cheer up This depressive mind. A storm bewildered, Your indecisive mind, Drowning me, In my reckless thoughts. A rainy day, A gleaming lie, A story not told, With words Nor sounds. This story is, But a mere thought, In this universe We share, Every night. This story is, A withering storm, Drifting off, In this careless soul. This story is, Not told with sounds, But a never ending blow, Of swirling emotions, Bottled up inside.Complete
she/her/me
[Completed] some poems i've come to hateComplete
Thoughts And Excerpts. || #Wattys2018
||Started: 1st April 2018.|| ||Ended: 15th November 2018|| some things I think about :) Along with some quotes that I add deeper meaning too. Some things that I talk about in this book are to no one. Some are dreams. Some are nightmares. Also some things in this book haven't happened to me. Its happened to a friend or I saw it on the internet and changed it up. Also my writing changes throughout this shitty book. Enjoy :)) (Previously known as 'Random Thoughts) {Highest ranking: #222, #85 in poem 2018 #666 in deep 0-o ) P.S. I have a great family life and I am not and (hopefully) never will be suicidal. My family means the world to me. ❤Complete
B A D
My mind is dark, intensive and sexual. P.s: This is a mature content, and may get sexual at times. Please read at your own risk. Higest rank #10 as of 13/3, 18/3, 24/3 #9 as of 30/3 #6 as of 3/8 #3 as of 4/9 And #1 in sad poems tag 4/9Complete
Poems
Poetry of mine. These all range from when i was a kid to now so some of them kind of suck. Some of these may be triggering to some people, but I try to put a warning at the beginning of each one. Please enjoy and please don't steal my poetry. :)Complete
Dim.
Tired of trying to be everything. Trying to be perfect. Wrong paths and wrong people and missed opportunities. Am I letting my mental illness take over my life? A look into the mind of a BPD, Anxiety ridden woman. With no identity but her Panic. With my ways it's hard to keep down anything healthy, relationships that don't last but stay with me like my own personal demons. And evil around the corner you'd never see coming. The pain changes you. Trauma changes you. It strips you away from yourself. BPD strips away your identity sometimes I guess this is my way of finding myself again, through writing and reflecting and realizing it is okay to be hurting. This book will include poetry and scenes and think pieces. It will be vulnerable. It will be raw. It will remind you of your own loss. - "She." Xx🥀xXComplete![Short Poems [Book #1]](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/50471362-256-k708652.jpg)
Short Poems [Book #1]
During the making of these poems, I went through different types of writing so some may suck, some may be deep, and some may be good, it all depends on you. My poetry DOES NOT focus on my life, I just enjoy writing dark things about OC's and stuff. Is #525, #284, #438, #487, #816, #616, #954, #209, #411, #770, #705, #746, #1,000, #555, #393, #222, #326, #236, #277, ...#483, #279, #290, #371 in Poetry. Best: #222Complete
Random Short Stories And Poems
•editing in process• Rewriting every chapterComplete
I may just be a girl. No one special. Nothing compared to others. In the eyes of the universe, I am just a little speck of dust. My light may not shine very bright, and it may not be of any use, but I am me. Writing is my only escape out of this world. I cry rivers of ink and climb mountains of words. I may not write as well as others, but my writing is just a different style. They're my feelings. I really do hope you can connect to some of the work in here. Please, do not copy any of this work without informing me first. Thank you! "My Escape" I have a supply, In the closet near my bed, Of past memories, Hanging by a thread. A thread, Connected to my mind, That thread, Just follows me around. I have a hole, In the middle of my heart, That hole fills up, When someone's torn apart. I have a tear, Accompanying my lonely eye, Knowing, whenever I'm alone, I can sit in a corner and cry. Even though, These things are there, I still have ink, a notebook, and a pen, To care. I write and write, To my heart's desire, New feelings erupt, By the hour. Writing is, My one escape, In this cruel and careless world, I have the power, to awake. "A Story Without Words" A story told, In a little tune, A golden smile, And a shining tear, Rolling down my cheek. A little breeze, The nice sun, A marvelous day, Turned into a wet one. The memories dripped, Down on my cotton white shirt, Leaving stains, On my malicious heart. Your smile, Worth a thousand words, Can't cheer up This depressive mind. A storm bewildered, Your indecisive mind, Drowning me, In my reckless thoughts. A rainy day, A gleaming lie, A story not told, With words Nor sounds. This story is, But a mere thought, In this universe We share, Every night. This story is, A withering storm, Drifting off, In this careless soul. This story is, Not told with sounds, But a never ending blow, Of swirling emotions, Bottled up inside.
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