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Literature Text
There are daisies blooming in my lungs
and my heart's been replaced by the sun
How do you fit a life of words into an
epitaph?
Write my suicide note on my grave and
remember to leave me flowers;
I'll be choking on the weedkiller in
less than half an hour.
Sometimes it feels like I won't live
to see another sunrise;
if this is suicidal so be it because
I'm here and I'm real and I'm alive.
Happiness always feels a size too big and
sadness makes up my skin
I'm here I'm real I'm alive I am hurting.
Leave daisies on my headstone so I have a flower crown;
Persephone,
my love, don't forget me.
and my heart's been replaced by the sun
How do you fit a life of words into an
epitaph?
Write my suicide note on my grave and
remember to leave me flowers;
I'll be choking on the weedkiller in
less than half an hour.
Sometimes it feels like I won't live
to see another sunrise;
if this is suicidal so be it because
I'm here and I'm real and I'm alive.
Happiness always feels a size too big and
sadness makes up my skin
I'm here I'm real I'm alive I am hurting.
Leave daisies on my headstone so I have a flower crown;
Persephone,
my love, don't forget me.
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Literature
i. woodland therapy
today i walked alone on purpose because
sometimes i just can't stand how loud they speak and
i get overwhelmed a lot quicker
than you think, and
i felt like my heart was going to beat a hole in my chest and
jump out and
i just
had to go.
my feet found a small pathway, bare and framed by
the ghosts of footprints and
i stopped under a canopy.
i spoke to the forest but it didn't
speak to me.
i whispered that
i don't think i'm who i'm meant to be, that
i'm scared of who i'm meant to be and
that i'll never be able to live up to the expectations they've
force-fed me,
the ones i led them to believe i could
fulfill.
i said that
this didn't feel
Literature
xvii. star-boy
your bones are engraved with
patterns of planets and
asteroids and stars,
they're all out of order but
they remind me of your
heartbeat
in the sense that they are more
celestial than the sky itself.
your ribcage hums like
a galaxy being born,
you bleed blues and purples and
your veins are pumping stardust to your lungs and
i'm pretty sure you could breathe fine without oxygen
(but don't try it, i'm no scientist i just have a lot of faith in you).
i see a sparkle in your eyes like
twinkles in the night,
a million dreams combined and
compacted into raging balls of
fire and energy and
passion,
you are buzzing like
all the antimatter
that couldn'
Literature
if no one cares about you do you even exist at all
this is me
with no fight left.
i'm watching sunrises go by when i should be taking
pictures
because that's what i do, but
i just don't see a reason anymore
(there's no one left to show them to).
this is me afraid to expose
bare wrists and
the inside of dresser drawers.
i'm confusing dreams with reality because
i'm not much in tune with
either
anymore. and
this is not a battle cry it is a
soft whisper of defeat and
longing for something that can no longer be seen,
i am
elevated and
afraid of heights when i never was before
(i think maybe i'm just afraid to fall).
this is me,
in the dark
for 28 consecutive hours (and
counting) because
i don
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Comments18
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i'd love to hear you read this, tbh.