The Depressed Girl Speak
- LECTURAS 13
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- Partes 3
This is just my little thoughts of how I see myself... Tbh since i can't have diary and I feel like if i just keep all my emotions in, I'll do something crazy and selfish. So this was kinda my last resort.
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I had survived the first. That was then; this is now. The blindfold of so many pills slowly died away and first though my finger then my head, a passion, a hurt and a need filled me as every moment was consumed with words; every breath with wisps of ink. But they were not all captured and somewhere in the deep abyss of living, lies the unspoken, almost unfelt feelings of decades in months. This is the half-empty account off all those nights from December through into the new year and the end of March. ...I pains me to share it. But it also makes it just not my problem anymore and that is something I long for- freedom and peace. Please note that all grammatical and linguistic, as well as those in punctuation and spelling or placing of words were intentional. If you LIKE this and want me to write a commentary on each poem and picture (as in my previous collection Apfel), please show me in comments and votes :) PLEASE DO NOT COPY any of the poetry or pictures.Concluida
MELANCHOLY ▷ RIARKLE
❝ i'm chasing roller coasters. i've got to have you closer now. endless romantic stories; you never could control me. ❞ © httpriarkle | 2017 rewritten. | hit 50K on 11/27/16. [DISCONTINUED]Concluida
My Feeling Poems
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The bad boy's weakness {Joshaya}
When he looks at me, something ignites. It's like there gasoline in my veins, and he is a spark that just sets me on fire. It's painful thought. He lights me up, and I feel so alive, but I'm still burning. I have burns on my skin and in my lungs and all around me, because I never put the fire out. I just let him watch me burn, and I love it.Concluida
i like to burn things
im just a silhouette with a fading mind TRIGGER WARNING:; self harm, depression, suicide, mental illness etc.Concluida
Cuts.
i drew a butterfly on my wrist, in hopes that this feeling would no longer persist, but things got bad and i started to cry, so the butterfly on my wrist had to die. once again i tried to set myself free, but it seems my thoughts have stolen the key, so this butterfly lived a short life, killed with fear, and a very sharp knife. -b.g [lower case intended.]Concluida
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