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Literature Text
he cut the string of fate that bound him to this world
he cut a bond of love that bound him to a girl
he walks the streets at midnight searching for a light
he walks a path of loneliness away from help and life
he comes to a room that he knows too well
he comes to a room where the memories still dwell
he sees her picture on the wall
he sees the smile for which he fell
he sits alone in darkness a creature all in black
he sits with a sadness he will never lack
he wonders what could have been if he had been the one
he wonders why her smile still outshines the sun
he wishes the world was no longer grey
he wishes he could just go away
he says nothing will ever be quite the same
he says she was the one who kept him sane
he wants to meet her again one day
he wants to prove he won't fade away
he knows that things can never be changed
he knows they will always be estranged
he cut a bond of love that bound him to a girl
he walks the streets at midnight searching for a light
he walks a path of loneliness away from help and life
he comes to a room that he knows too well
he comes to a room where the memories still dwell
he sees her picture on the wall
he sees the smile for which he fell
he sits alone in darkness a creature all in black
he sits with a sadness he will never lack
he wonders what could have been if he had been the one
he wonders why her smile still outshines the sun
he wishes the world was no longer grey
he wishes he could just go away
he says nothing will ever be quite the same
he says she was the one who kept him sane
he wants to meet her again one day
he wants to prove he won't fade away
he knows that things can never be changed
he knows they will always be estranged
Literature
Scars
I’ve spent far too many years
painting on my skin.
In shades of red and silver;
I can’t find where it begins.
My medium takes too long to dry
and the mistakes will never fade;
placed upon me in white lines
that can never be unmade.
It’s hard to leave pain behind
when it is written on your wrists—
art I could never understand,
and couldn’t quite resist.
A permanent reminder
of things that I have been;
Sorrow lasts forever
when it is cut into your skin.
Literature
Seventeen (In Phases)
1.
It was because her parents had named her for the grandmother who had broken her mother’s heart. The grandmother whose heart was supposed to have melted from her birth and hadn’t.
That was why her mother barely looked at her. That was why she called her ‘girl’.
That was why she liked to pretend she was the quiet woman in the background of an old black and white movie. Because everything here was like an old black and white movie.
[And if she really looked back, her mother had never appreciated the elegance of the 1950s enough.]
2.
It was because she hated surprises. The surprise she got on her sixth birthday wh
Literature
Bipolar Disorder
Look over your shoulder. They're watching you.
Tighten your stomach muscles.
Bounce your leg up and down.
Faster.
Faster.
"Are you okay?"
No.
"I'm fine."
Shut up.
Don't say anything.
Feel it, feel the thoughts melting from your mind.
Freeze.
Stare.
Laugh.
"What are you doing?"
Dying.
"Nothing."
They're behind you.
Kill them before they kill you.
"What's wrong?"
Please save me.
"Nothing."
Crazy. You're crazy.
No one wants you.
Pull the trigger.
Do it.
"Please tell me what's wrong."
You wouldn't understand.
"Nothing."
Laugh.
Smile.
Scream.
"Who are you? I don't know you anymore."
I'm a nobody.
I am Bipolar Disorder.
... "I don't know.
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I saw her picture again today, now I just want to fade away.
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