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Triggering - A few things Triggering. Different poems.
Deceitful Choices
An empty hollow tunnel full of
still and mellow darkness.
A deceitful place where
lies and opinions make their home.
To either side is an exit,
both could lead the way.
Both sides open to the world,
both show light and open-ness.
Passerbyers stare as the
choice's difficulty increases.
Right or left which
way could hold the
perfection to be found.
Just an empty,dirty
tunnel full of lessons
left to learn.
.Moment on the rooftop.
Her breath came to a half.
her thoughts raced like horses.
The wind caught her hair,
and she regained her breath.
The height of which she was
calmed the pounding of her heart.
For the higher on the roof she went,
the less her disease owned her.
Her feet felt like slipping,
jumping, and ending.
She wasn't holding on.
Her mind would wander,
as she looked at the life moving,
below her hideout.
She pondered the thought of
falling from here unto her death.
She sits and stops the visions,
with the last drag of her cigarette,
slowly her panic attack fades,
as she throws away her sin.
.Test the limits.
Scribbles and letters.
Memories and thoughts.
Read a little longer,
push your luck.
Tears well up,
push them all back.
Continue to destroy yourself.
Test the limits,
remember the feelings,
hold it in,
build it up.
Push yourself farther.
Harder, closer to the edge.
Concentrate on negative,
push back positive.
Wak no longer,
stronger you are.
Not enough,
hold tears longer,
hold back feelings.
Push yourself.
Not crying yet,
finish your job.
.Perfect.
I will lie, deny, and hide for her.
I will fight, distract, and force myself.
I will fast, starve, and purge for this.
I will strive, work, and hurt for perfection.
I will run, excersize, and burn for dizziness.
I will do anything and say anything to hide her.
I will cry in private and smile in public to be stronger.
I wll not eat, cry or give in for beauty.
I wll not betray Ana for she is my friend.
I will not seek help for Ana willb e lost.
I will follow these rules for thinnes.
I will not break these rules so I can finally be perfect.
.My poetry.
My poetry is dark,
no happiness is seen.
I can not write the joy I feel,
for none of it feels real.
I suppose I'm just a disappointment,
on how my writing seems.
Bet you didn't expect to see,
this kind of **** from me.
The smile I pin on everyday,
cages me inside.
No-one knows the thoughts I bare,
the depressions so unfair.
The things I see,
and mood swings I possess,
are only felt by me.
I wish they'd let me be.
The pain I feel has great effect,
on how I write my words.
The way I cope,
shows no hope,
and you would look down on.
My poetry is all I have to,
save me from myself.
Because I can trust no-one,
for my thoughts have always won.
Just some of my favorite poems by myself.
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