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It seems I've become somewhat of a writing machine. I've filled almost half a notebook with my ramblin...
Now I have an incredible urge to write poetry...used to write all the time.
Again, so that just comes into your head? Wow.....words just flow out of you, that's so beautiful. It's awesome you have an outlet for the stuff you go through. Although you may not be able to write directly what happened to you, this is my experience. When I write, the stuff behind it (for you it may be past events) is the driving force, meaning I express what ever it is through those words. That might be what you're doing, and its a great outlet.
 
Thanks wreck.
I'm not always happy or comfortable with what comes pouring out..but it comes out none the less.
 
Thanks wreck.
I'm not always happy or comfortable with what comes pouring out..but it comes out none t...
:hug:it's not fun, but it has to come out sooner or later. Might as well be in poetry, I find it a very meaningful and expressful way to release emotion. Without full-on bluntly writing what happened.
 
It's like I'm on autopilot when I'm at work. I go in, I do my job while avoiding as much interaction as possible, and I clock out. Sometimes I'm able to force a smile, talk with a coworker, act like I'm not losing my grip on life...most of the time I just come home and can't remember much of what I did that day.
Tonight a coworker asked me what was wrong, said I'd been acting 'distant' the past few weeks and that I had changed.
The truth burned like fire in my throat as I swallowed it down and forced out some vague lie about personal issues.
How the hell am I supposed to keep this bullshit up?
This is taking over my life and I can't afford it. I literally can't afford to break down like this. I've got bills to pay, responsibilities to keep...What the hell am I doing?
 
Five hours of puking the contents of my brain onto page after page in my journal, this is some of what came out..


Your lust for me
killed the trust in me.
Every word a broken plea,
only wanting to be free.

Your touch was pain,
your love my chains.
My blood leaving stains,
from my own disdain.

There is no search for apology,
only the desire to flee.
Always looking for the key,
so maybe, one day, I'll be free.

My tears fall as acid rain,
all it touches, life is drained.
Your actions were inhumane,
in their wake, I lie insane.

Because of you I'm filled with hate,
my young skin used as bait.
Every hour as life's inmate,
I wait for the moment I detonate.

I've tried so hard to obtain,
anything that could explain.
For every scream from my you gained,
you only seemed more entertained.

If your plan was to create,
a girl who lives a stalemate,
then it's you who I congratulate,
for pain, my life, does narrate.

Every day I live in fear,
through jaded eyes, sight is never clear.
Memories of you do persevere,
my innocence, your souvenir.

Forever I tried to compensate,
doing my best to negate.
My body you did desecrate.
My life, no choice, but to mutate.

I polish my veneer,
every day, every year.
You became the engineer
of every dream, every tear.

Because of you, life is my jail,
never able to post bail.
These high walls I try to scale,
knowing, always, I will fail.

I want so much to disappear,
from this world so insincere.
Some will try to interfere,
but I'll never truly let them near.

My mind, it seems, grows ever frail,
my skin paper thin and ever pale.
With thoughts of you, my mind derails,
my chest aching with each inhale.

Societies rules I must abide,
my nails dig in as I endure the ride.
Nevermore do I own pride,
into the shadows I go to hide.

It seems that life itself grows stale,
I try to escape to no avail.
At night my brain, the dreams impale.
I pray to never know details.

Happiness I've been denied,
thoughts of you are homicide.
Feelings of loss are amplified,
you, my private genocide.

Who I could have been is lost.
My life, for your joy, was the cost.
Where warmth should thrive, there's only frost,
my skin, forever more, embossed.

In the end, I must confide,
in my heart I'm mortified.
Of you, forever petrified,
never to be purified.

Years ago I should have testified,
but inside I was terrified.
So on my right at my bedside,
lay my blade, my suicide.

So I die, undignified.
 
If the doctor had been right with her guess and it had been today, then you would be four now.
It doesn't feel like four years, but at the same time it feels as if it's been a lifetime.
The irony of the fact tomorrow is mothers day is not lost on me. It just makes it worse...
It was too early to tell what you were...but I always picture a little girl.
I'm so sorry. I am so f*cking sorry and there is no way to ever tell you that, and I'm sorry for that too.
They all say "it's not your fault," and some days..some days I can convince myself they're right... but what I did?
What I did when I found out about you...that was my choice, my fault.
I never gave you a chance. It wasn't your fault, but you lost your chance at life because of me.
I hope you know you weren't the only one to die that day.
A part of me died when I made that decision and then when I followed through.
But I couldn't have a part of him inside of me, a part of him in my life for the rest of my life.
I deserve the pain I'm in today...the pain I feel whenever I think about you. It's only fair, after what I did.
It's my punishment.
It wasn't your fault, but you paid the price for what he did, for what I couldn't handle.
I'm so sorry.
I am so, so sorry.
 
nothing is right anymore. The words in my head are a jumbled mess, the pages of my journal look the same. I can't sleep without the nightmares, can't eat...though I can always lose the weight..
It shouldn't be like this anymore...
 
I can't get clean...there aren't enough showers in the world to make me clean.
I'm filthy and disgusting and it won't go away...he won't go away...
 
I shouldn't have to remember all of this!
It's not f*cking fair!
I don't want to remember any more of this, I can't!
I can't change what happened, fine, but why the f*ck do I have to REMEMBER it?
I don't want to remember his face...I don't want to know that there's a chance I could see him around town.
Why do I have to remember?

Why did it have to be him?
 
I don't wanna do this anymore.
I don't want to feel any of it.
I don't want to remember any of it.
I just...I don't want to do it. Any of it.
 

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