Poetry

You Don't See

Mon, 2012-05-21 20:52 — emonat812
You don't see the scars on my arms
or my legs or my hips or anything
You don't understand my cravings
for a thin body and beauty all my own
You don't see my secrets
things hidden deep inside
No matter how much I show you
You still don't see it.
You can't see the pain caused
or the memories I've engraved.
Each scar tells a story
Each calorie avoided or toilet flushed
just prove my goal of perfection. 
I can look down at my scars now
And know just where they are from.
I can remember what happened
what pushed me over the edge.
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Today was just one of those days where you want to give up

Wed, 2012-05-16 12:45 — autismtwin

life's a lie

It's a perfect  denial

I hide behind an empty face

Because I know this life is just a game

I'm losing this game

I will never be good enough

Or skinny enough

I will always be a cut up monster

Who shoulden't live any longer

I want to swallow a ton of pills

And slit my throat

To end this life I used to know

NO, I can't handle this

I'm not strong enough

You told me to fight for you

How do I fight for you when I don't want to fight for myself?

Just because you ignore t hese problems,

That doesn't mean they just go away

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Not everything is as it appears

Thu, 2012-05-10 15:27 — autismtwin

She paints a pretty picture

Her picture has a twist

Her paint brush is her razor

And her canvas is her wrist

 

Day by day, as she awakes

She’s stuck in a horrible place

 

There’s a girl crying in her mirror tonight

There’s nothing she can say to make her feel alright

Her throat suddenly feels tight

She has no energy left to fight

 

When people ask her, she claims she’s okay

For she doesn’t know what else to say

 

How do you know she hurts if you cannot see her pain?

To wear it on her body shows what words cannot explain

Her cutting, it continues to sustain

Happiness, she can’t attain

 

She has made her decision

She has a vision

 

She knows this day will be her last day

She continues to tell people she’s okay

There’s a price she has to pay

She will deal with this in her own way

 

That very night, she took out her knife

And took her own life

 

Everyone was shocked

She had stopped her own ticking clock

 

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The first cut

Thu, 2012-05-10 14:42 — autismtwin

You had a bad day

Things didn’t go your way

 

You aren’t sure how to cope

All you can do is hope

 

You have no clue how to explain

You yearn to feel something, maybe pain?

 

Take the sharpest thing you can get

The easiest place to cut, your wrist

This didn’t seem too much of a threat

Guiltily, you tell yourself you won’t persist

 

Embarrassed, you try to hide what you’ve done

Cuts spread like a wildfire, one by one

 

The first cut isn’t addictive

After that, your future seems predictive

 

You want to erase who you’ve become

Where did all this come from?

 

 

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Leave a comment for a name plz?

Thu, 2012-05-10 14:38 — autismtwin

This is a feeling I know all too well

My vision goes blurry as tears begin to swell

 

Blood comes through the neatly cut lines

As I catch the blade in the light, it shines

 

I frantically try to clean up the evidence

So I don’t have to face a consequence

 

Now I’m hysterically crying

I don’t want to continue trying

 

Recovery isn’t close to easy

The thought of letting go makes me queasy

 

My eating disorder always makes me cold

Cleaning my cuts is getting quite old

 

Whenever I get upset, I take it out on myself by creating pain

I think I am slowly going insane

 

I try to calm down to dry my tears

Everyday life is what I fear

 

I feel like such a failure

Is there ever going to be a cure?

 

I always miss out on a lot

I hate being so distraught

 

Why can’t I ever win this fight?

Do I have enough might?

 

I want to eventually get better

I’m tired of feeling under the weather

 

Every day I fight to stay alive

I’m not sure how I continue to survive

 

 

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Counting Clocks.

Thu, 2012-05-10 08:14 — TaeJo

1...2...3 counting out the signs we see.

Oh teenage hope is overblown, lets try something more fantastical. 

Plucking petals; wishful thinking.

 

 

4...5...6 timid whispers; awkwardness.

Trembling and starry-eyed, our bodies sway from side to side.

Day by day resentment slowly crawls toward me. My insecurities quickly growing.

 

 

7...8...9 you and I intertwine.

Such hardned skin we wear, and tender moments we share.

It's not loving you that scares me, but how much power you now hold. Do you even care?

 

 

10...11...12 selfish lovers never tell.

Keeping secrets never work out all that well.

Counting clocks. I'm too afraid to ask; ASSumptions must be made. Next level? Dwell.

 

 

13...14...15 time for passion, time to scream.

Quite honestly, I've never met a person I cherished and despised at the same time.

Your wooden heart casts splinters into my hands as I carry the weight of your "love". Mine.

 

 

 

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Why?

Wed, 2012-05-09 17:18 — autismtwin

Do you ever wonder why?

Why I hurt, why I cry?

My pain is given away when you look me in the eye

You look at me as I sit there and sigh

I changed before you within a blink of an eye

 

From healthy to weak

From happy to bleak

I’m trembling, too upset to speak

You watch as a tear rolls down my cheek

 

Anxiety attacks leave me breathless

I lie awake at night, restless

Cutting leaves me senseless

Starving leaves my stomach with emptiness

 

I ask you if I’m really worth it

I am dying inside, bit by bit

I’m desperately trying to live with it

I am not the type to admit

 

I hide it all

Become withdrawn

Inside I’ve gone AWOL

This is the beginning of a long haul

 

Self-control is what I lack

You seem to not know how to react

Do you have my back?

I need help getting back on track

 

 

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Help me think of a name please?

Tue, 2012-05-08 19:01 — autismtwin

I want my pain to end
My body wont let itself mend
I'm tired of faking a smile
When inside I'm in denial
I go through each day knowing just what I'll do
I'll go home and make my cuts just like new
Failing my classes, no longer trying
Nothing these days seems to keep me from crying
I'm hanging by a thread
Questioning whether I'm alive or dead
Sometimes I don't want to go on
I know everything I'm doing is wrong
I often wonder why I'm still living
Is what I'm doing even forgiving?
My OCD controls my every move
I dont know if I'll ever improve
Food has become my enemy
Mt depression takes over me mentally
My cutting tears my body apart
I'm sorry if I'm breaking your heart
I can never lose enough weight
I can never seem to clean my plate
The more I try the hide the pain
The more inside I become insane
Cant you see, theres more to me?
This is not who I want to be
I hope someday I'll no longer be like this
I wish these problems could never exist
Thats life
And maybe, its worth my fight.

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Dear Daddy

Tue, 2012-05-08 13:56 — LaurenGB

 

You raised me to be famous, you raised me to be ritch,
but look, what's here? infront of you, your little darling witch.
You raised me to be beautiful, and use this to my gain,
the scars I cast upon my-self will keep me from those ways.
You raised me to be popular, for image, not for fun,
so tell me, has this worked for you? When they know you, they do run.
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The Assylum

Sun, 2012-05-06 18:43 — Anonymous (not verified)

Sent away. 
Locked away. 
Never to return. 
They didn't want her,
Not at all. 
Now she's left to rot. 
Sent away. 
Locked away. 
Never to return. 
They pulled her out, and sent her off
To the children's asylum. 
Put in a room,
One locked up tight,
Padded walls and all. 
She's scared,
So scared,
She barely even sleeps at night. 
Down the hall is a boy,
With multiple personalities 
Across from him, is housed a girl,
She's looked death in his eyes. 
Down a few rooms, and across the hall
Lives a strange little man. 
He's never spoken a word to anyone,
Well, only to the people in his head. 
They were all sent away. 
Locked away. 
Never to return. 
Now they sit and wait for something, 
Anything,
That's better than this, or worse. 
She's a combination of them all,
She has the scars to prove it. 
Now just be careful, they told her. 
They weren't supposed to make friends. 
She did, however meet some children,
They looked like her lot. 
They plotted, devised, and found a time
To finally go away. 
Sent away. 
Locked away. 
These four, young, children,
Are never to return. 

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