Heart of Ice Die Die Die
Well, if u've read any of poetry u can tell that i'm clinically depressed and probably should be medicated.... oh well. no need to involve doctors right? who likes them anyways? i probably could be considered bi polar as well and probably should be medicated for that as well. but, once again, no one likes doctors. filthy lablers. i'm just a girl trying to live to see tomorrow and keep putting on a... more »
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Heart of Ice Die Die Die Poems
I can't keep doing this to myself, the stress will kill me. I have to stop my knife.
I'm Telling You This Now
I'm tired and I'm hurt. I can feel the tear in my heart spreading farther
Because of You
I cry silently inside But you don't care. You never do. You enjoy my tears,
Sick Of Living
Sick of living Sick of pain Sick of rejection Sick of humanity
Broken Beyond Repair
Sick of being alone even when I'm surronded by people. I'm crying but no one cares.
Almost Whole Again
Writing, depression setting in but I can't stop. Halfway through
Suicide Notes and Butterfly Kisses
I woke up one day, and knew something was wrong. Like something was missing. I got up and looked down at my stolen boxers and guy shirt.
A Letter To The Ignorant
Kelsey I gave up on him a long time ago. He just hurt too much.
I opened my heart to you And you stabbed it through with a knife and you said: I love you forever, please understand. The last words I heard as I took in my dying breath,
I feel no pain. For I am empty inside and there is nothing left. My pain has hollowed me out In all it's victorious glory, it has sucked my soul dry.
Mountain of Raw Emotions
I'm climbing, Trying to get to the top of this monsterous mountian. But I can't. For this mountain
My eyes are bloodshot from the tears that have fallen this day. Though my irises
The Life Of An Emo
The life of an emo... Can anyone other than one of us understand our pain? Our need of secrecy? Sometimes,
Back To Before / I Love You Four
I wish things would just go back to the way they were. Before her
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
I can't keep doing this to myself,
the stress will kill me.
I have to stop
I can't keep doing this.
It's become out of control.
Too hard to control.
I'll kill myself,
possibly on accident,
but maybe not.
I've already tried,
too close a call.
Words carved into my skin.
is the brand I bear.
I can't be trusted ALONE anymore.
But I'm drowning,
I can't see the surface anymore.
I call for help,
no I SCREAM
But no one answers.
They've all but forgotten
the girl they used to love,
or at least were ...