Poetic Relapse.
  • Reads 522
  • Votes 10
  • Parts 40
  • Time 46m
  • Reads 522
  • Votes 10
  • Parts 40
  • Time 46m
Ongoing, First published Aug 29, 2016
A place for me to write poetry whenever it arises in my lungs, when I have no air to scream these words that haunt me into my days and night
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Cold Water by adaline_meadows
44 parts Complete
[BWWM] I was only twelve years old when the world turned cold. The day my mom died in that car accident, I felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my heart. My dad, who had always been my hero, suddenly became a stranger, filled with rage and blame. He couldn't see that I was hurting, too; he only saw me as a reminder of his loss. The accusations cut deep. He said it was my fault for being there, for not doing something to save her. For being the reason she was in the car in the first place. In the years that followed, things only got worse. The abuse started gradually-a harsh word here, a shove there-but it escalated, leaving scars that I carried long after the physical pain faded. I was drowning in my own despair, struggling to keep my head above water while my father's anger raged like a storm around me. I only had a break from his anger when I started living with Aunt Dina-my mom's older sister. Well, that was because she found me nearly dead on my bed after I took a dozen pills. I was tired of living. I had hit rock bottom. The harsh whispers that followed me around and the stares at school. I pretended not to notice, like it didn't bother me. But it did. I was alone. Then came Athalia, a ray of sunshine cutting through my darkness. With her, I felt something I hadn't felt in years-happiness. She became my light through the darkness and my lifeline. ••••••••••• ● Warnings ⚠️ ~ Mention of suicide ~ Anxiety attacks ~ Rape attempt ~ Mention of self-harm ~ Depression
Thoughts of a Juvenile  by SoniyaKale
51 parts Complete
Words are sharper than knife they say. Yes it is true. Some perfectly moulded good words can both make and break a heart easily. A poem is a group of such perfectly moulded words given wings to fly. They fly through the mind and heart easily. A hobby is an activity we do to express ourselves, our beliefs and our thinking. For example through drawing, dancing, singing, etcetera. Writing a poem is one of such hobbies. Here words are used. These words and messages are far more twisted. A poem hits the mind, a good poem hits the heart. Thoughts Of A Juvenile is just a collection of my poems.I started writing poems when I was 8. I may not be a great writer. But yeah I write to express. There have been times for me like many other teenagers where I thought I was lost and helpless. There have been good times too. I'm standing on the edge of teenage now, telling you that you can survive this. You can survive everything. All you need is to find your strengths. There are sad nights and then there are mornings full of opportunities. Don't give up. I'm here and I'll always be here. Whenever you feel down just remind yourself "Be stupid". Go out in public and the eat the food you like alone, ask out your crush, flirt like there's no one watching, dance like a ghost has possessed your body, prank people, have a little chat with the nerds you know. Surviving is an art not many can master. Be a Master. There are mistakes in this book and I tried my best to correct them. But couldn't correct them all. I would really love to receive reviews and criticism. Vote if you like it. Comment your views. And follow for more poems. Add it to your reading list or library.
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Something Mending -- VOL 1

127 parts Complete Mature

Of Breaking hearts, young love, betrayal and pain. Of Mending hearts, familiar pain, unexpected hurt and aftermath. Of Healing hearts, underated heartache, pain and acceptance. Of Love, Love that is as deep sea. Pain, that knows no bounds. Strength, that exist within time, but lasts forever. Of Sadness, sadness that always returns, Of Trauma, trauma that runs in deep, and the art of dying, every time. Of Scribbles and rambles, unsaid words and sealed pain. Of Life, Love, Pain, Sadness, Trauma. Of the art of rising like a phoenix, every time. Of Anxiety and Paranoia. Of Anything bad, Of Everything good. This is a story of a girl, it's a continuous one. A story of a sad girl, very lonely, but beautiful, intelligent and strong. She's a self sabotaging narcissistic girl, but also a talented, skilled and brave girl. She is riddled with anxiety and depression, but somehow finds ways to get up each morning, thinking of beautiful things. She has loved and lost, hurt and being hurt. She has not lost herself, but she has not find herself either. This is the life of a girl, laid before you in poems and thoughts. Here is a piece of me, and in here, undoubtedly, you will find pieces of yourself too. I am a mess, but aren't we all? | formerly SOMETHING BROKEN |