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Literature Text
i smashed a plate today. the pieces went flying everywhere.
there is a point at which it doesn't make a difference anymore. i am better but better is not good enough and never ever will be.
i smashed a plate today. all the tempting big and little pieces had sharp edges.
there is a point at which i stop caring that i am bigger and better and stronger. this is the point where i can stop denying that i am beautiful because i don't even care anymore.
i didn't hurt myself because i would be letting too many people down.
it's a shame that they love me so much;
if they didn't, maybe this gut-wrenching fear wouldn't be so strong in the first place.
there is a point at which it doesn't make a difference anymore. i am better but better is not good enough and never ever will be.
i smashed a plate today. all the tempting big and little pieces had sharp edges.
there is a point at which i stop caring that i am bigger and better and stronger. this is the point where i can stop denying that i am beautiful because i don't even care anymore.
i didn't hurt myself because i would be letting too many people down.
it's a shame that they love me so much;
if they didn't, maybe this gut-wrenching fear wouldn't be so strong in the first place.
Literature
l i e s
"You're beautiful."
I cringe at those cotton-laced spoken words.
"Let me hold you?"
I shiver in fear from the static radiating off your touch.
"I'll be there, I promise!"
I anticipate the day where you realize that you can't save me from humanity.
"Trust me."
I recoil back into my evasive shell, anything to refrain from broken promises.
"I love you."
My heart pumps with adrenaline, while my head is screaming
you're a fool.
Literature
she was everyone
she wrote useless phrases on her wrists and
hipbones because she wanted to be
poetic
.
she would count her ribs under the
sheets wondering what she might do if there was suddenly
one less than the night before.
she wanted to find meaning in the smell of rain
and the darkness of her room but
the only place she found truth was at the bottom
of the beer bottle and the space
between his hands and inside of her thighs.
she was bitter that it was only beer she could stomach -
it seemed she could not even be beautiful in the
destroyed lost sense of the word.
she couldn't get to sleep before
midnight and
scabs that were pro
Literature
now you know better
you were never one for shakespeare's iambic pentameter,
so you nixed the meter and measure the gods composed
and wrote your own sonnet in time with the beat of your heart
and the shiver of your tapered spine.
instead of crisp and company issued egg shell paper,
you dragged the pen you bought yourself back in sixth grade
across the smooth canvas of tanned skin, littered with sunset bruises
and did not mind the clashing of colours.
you always wondered if it were true what the newsstands said,
that art flutters to life when misery takes shape
but you never really believed such nonsense,
until your spine shattered, your inkwell ran dr
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she almost kicked me out today.
i almost wish she had.
please comment on the writing, not on the situation. i've said all there is to say, and frankly i don't want to hear any more than i already have on the matter.
(linkin park - in the end <3)
i almost wish she had.
please comment on the writing, not on the situation. i've said all there is to say, and frankly i don't want to hear any more than i already have on the matter.
(linkin park - in the end <3)
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I see ur pain lovvin th writin