FlatlineI can't breathe It's so coldI'm drowning I can't seeThe light's fadingWhere am I?Who knows I can't hearSirens scream in my ears,Wrapping their fingers around my throatI shout and yell Only to hear silence once againI'm sinking Deeper, darkerUnknown I'm bruised, brokenThe breakers, they're comingThey've always held my handBut now they're letting goI gasp for air as blood fills my lungsI cryMy eyelids feels heavyMy throat is soreThe pulse from my chest grow slowerDarkness surrounds meHope is dimI'm gone
That Child - 1.5-- "IT" --I don't know him anymore. He's not the same "kiddo" he used to be. Who are you now?...Why do I even bother. He can't hear me anymore, can he?He's not the same. He's different.Not because he hugs his torn, tear-stained teddy bear to his chest and needs a night light on 24/7 or he'll start wailing. The fact that there are demented drawings that seems to be drawn by a 3 year old child scattered across the room makes no difference. Only thing that was unsettling was his continuous and seemingly endless stare at a plain, blank wall, standing still before him. His eyes are hollow. He mutters quietly, softer than a whisper, in a language that I, and most likely anyone else, don't, or will ever know. From what I can see, he's only the cold, lifeless shell of my dear ol' "kiddo." Other than that, there's nothing left. Nothing left of him. What are you now?...He giggles. No, not "he", "it.""What are you, what do you see
GayI am gay.I'm not a disease, I'm not a problemI'm not an afflictionI don't need treatment.I don't need helpI'm not sickI'm not confusedI'm not a sin.I am gay.I'm your daughterYour sisterYour friendYour co workerYour classmateYour acquaintanceA complete strangerI am gay.I need love, just like youI need smilesI need supportI need a hugI need a friendI need a familyI need acceptanceI need understandingI need youI am gay.I know what love isI know what pain isI know what hate isI know what life isI am gay.And I need you to love meThe same way you loved me before you knewI am gay.And I have experienced hateFrom more people than just youI am gay.And I wont change.I wont give up.I wont back down.I wont pretend.I wont lie.I wont deny.I wont hide.I wont hurt.I am gay.And that's okay.
Nightmares' Art ShowI wish I could print out these horrorsMaterialise them from my decaying mindRemove them from my strained soulI want to hang them up like photographsat a sadistic art showand have you see these wicked imagesthat stream through my head each night(Do you realize now?They're all of you)
Autism Is Not A DiseaseSome say it's a virus,That spreads like the plague,Until there's nothing left,But for those with autism,Instead.But why,When we're normal human beings,Like you?Yes we are different,But isn't everyone else,Like for those who are bright,While other's are dumb?Sure our brains are wired,All over the place,Making it harder,For us to think.But it doesn't matter,When no one's the same.And Believe me,This world would be a bore,If we knew our every move,Knowing what everyone would do.So let's hear it:Am I a disease,Or a living human being?
Through The FlameThrough The Flame:Can you feel it in the winds?The chilling cries of blood-lust that sing through the air...May your people weep at the destruction that is to come;While you mortals cower behind your wards of flesh and steel!How does it feel I wonder,This question I askTo those who have spent their entire existenceAmassing power over their fellows...Know now that your paltry gestures;Your pseudo-might is but dust,Cast into the violent wind of a whirling typhoon!Now, tremble within your hovels of concrete and steel,For I am rage incarnate and I have come to ensure,That your world will burn...
Darling, Don't You DareTo the girl who skips dinner,Because her reflection hurts more thanStarving.To the boy who wears sweatshirtsOn hot summer days,Because he doesn’t want his mother to cry over hisScars.To the boy who weeps uncontrollablyUntil he falls asleep,Because it’s the only way to escape into hisDreams.To the girl who spends her days in her bedroom,Because the dark is more peaceful than herMind.To the child who gets angry,Because no one understands.To the teens who self-harm,To the ones in recovery,To the ones that just can’t do it anymore…Stay Strong.For the girl who skips mealsAnd the boy who wears sweatshirts,For the boy who cries,The girl who hides,And the ones who just can’t do it anymore.Because darling,You’ve come this far.Don’t you dare give up on it, now.
HetaliaxDepressed!Reader:Self-Inflicted AchromaticHetalia x Scary! Depressed! Reader: Self-Inflicted AchromaticI want to be a person just like you, don't you see?I want to be a person who is still being "me"A tired sigh escaped your lips. You were just so damn tired. The other countries said that you, (f/n) or (c/n), was scarier than Russia himself. But of course, you have lived 2500 years with wars and bloodshed always trailing after you. You just really want to be happy. But all those wars and blood imprinted on your mind, you really just released off a dark (a/c) aura and a stoic atmosphere.It really would be nice but I'm paying a price'Cause I'd really, not be me and that would not sufficeYou asked yourself, "I know my face doesn't show my pain. But isn't it obvious in my eyes? I'm lonely and hurt" You rubbed your numb (s/c) wrist, yesterday's cuts still had a colorless ache to it. You picked your silver knife, twirling it around watching the others argue. The said knife is the one you also use to cut yourself.A dream which
Karma Akabane X Reader ~Forget About Me~Note: Play this song while reading for maximum feels, lol - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lk5MGbOzGYUThe pitter-patter of rain,A knock on my door,I arose from the daydreams of you and meThe door opened,And came in you;Oh, such a wonderful visitThat lit my love-struck heartThat brought me happiness and a smileBut that happinessWas not to last;For your captivating mercury orbsWere dulled with sorrow and gone was my smileWe need to talk,You saidAnd my heart wrenched I hid my hurt&
ace of spades1. i come out wrong.well, no, sorry.i come out loudly. i tell my friendsalmost immediately, beforethe puzzle is even halfway complete.i tell them that given the opportunityand the consent i would probablyfuck the waitress that waved at usas we walked in. but the wordsaren’t as true as i want them to be,mostly because i don’t want to fuck her,i want to hold her hand.i want to be the one that gets to hug herfrom behind and kiss her cheek when she’s sad.i wanna know if she’s afraid ofthunderstorms, i wanna know if shebuilds blanket forts, i wanna knowher stance on eskimo kisses and if shewould let someone like me beher little spoon.but there’s not a word for that,so i say fuck when really i mean cuddle,and i come out wrong.2. when he kisses me, i trymy hardest to think about fireworks,but inside me there’s nothingbut a clock ticking in my head,counting the seconds untili can be not kissing him anymore. i pull backbecause my
Falling For Him...Falling for him wasn't safe or nice.It felt like I walked into a beautiful museum,a beautiful and mysterious building,but that building was on fire and there was no exit.
TearsDon't cryYou have friendsYou have familyYou have loveDon't cryYou have shelterYou have foodYou have waterDon't cryYou have everything you needDon't cryFor there's still hope