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Suicidal BreathsWith a decrease in energy,
Fatigue, sick-to-stomach and feelings of mortality,
She still survives,
Though she buries herself in broken lies.
She says she's fine,
She's just okay,
But deep down inside,
She's full of sorrowful pain.
She believes what she hears,
And avoids what she sees,
Feeling the sad, pity, indescribable beliefs.
She sits in a corner full of isolation and guilt,
Darkness and ache,
Counting the pills she spilled.
White and Blue,
Just one more.
Vision becoming blurry,
She's shaky and becoming worried.
Looking in a reflection,
Ribs soon distinguishable,
Bones and fright just popping out,
She screams inside and yells for help.
No one's around,
She can't hear a subtle sound.
She pleads to why she's on this earth,
Why her mother had to give birth.
She falls to the ground,
Blending into the darkness of the unspoken place,
She cries and cries,
Soon she'll be erased.
Mirror, MirrorMirror, mirror, on the wall,
Watch it crumble, break and fall.
Look at all the bloody glass,
How it reminds them of a severed past.
Watch a reflection slowly disappear,
Looking at all the shattered, crushed mirrors.
A breathless state of mind goes by,
Am I just alive or did I die?
Confused and in an awe,
Careless people unknown to what one saw.
Throat slit so one can't be unlocked,
Too bad the thoughts have become blocked.
Crimson splatters, dripping, breaking away,
Thou shall not know the feeling of all the pain.
Oh, Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Why did you crumble, break and fall?
Bleeding Outhe broke my bones
flung me into the snow
beat my swollen heart
and ripped my light apart.
congested my memories
with terrible pain
ripped out all the stitches
to make me a scarf.
but he was already faded
and long gone
before winter fell.
i bled out for a vampire.
Basement Zombiei am immune to color
my dna is composed of fog
and empty staircases.
staring through glass eyes
at a concrete world
is no way to live.
and each curse
is a slice of
it's damp and numb inside
you wouldn't want to get too close to me.
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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