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Literature Text
I sigh,
I sigh to lighten the weight on my chest.
I sigh,
I sigh because I am tired.
I am tired of waiting,
Of searching for you.
I sigh,
I sigh because my heart feels heavy.
I sigh to lighten the weight on my chest.
I sigh,
I sigh because I am tired.
I am tired of waiting,
Of searching for you.
I sigh,
I sigh because my heart feels heavy.
Literature
Pain
Have you ever wanted to scream?
Scream until your lungs stopped
Have you ever wanted to cry?
Cry until your eyes burned
Have you ever lied in bed awake?
Just thinking of the ways you could die
Have you ever faked a smile?
Just so no one will ask
Have you ever stared in the mirror?
And just wanted to hit it until the glass broke
Have you ever stayed up late?
Wishing that the pain would go away
Do you ever wonder?
Wonder what went wrong
Do you ever ask?
Ask why it all happened
Has anyone ever asked you?
If you were ok
Have you ever answered I'm fine?
And just walked away knowing you weren't ok
Literature
ALONE
No one can see the pain that we hide,
They're happy for us to keep it inside,
Our fear is our own; they don't want to know,
Why sould we involve them; why should it show.
You live your whole life in confusion and fear,
The need to feel something unbearably near,
Half of you living, Half of you gone,
And inside you know what your doing is wrong.
The thing's that can help, the thing's that may heal,
Are the flame or the blade and the sting of the steel,
The destruction of skin means the death of your soul,
But there's nowhere to run when your living alone.
Literature
I Hate Myself
I hate myself, for all that I've done.
I hate myself, for trying to live.
I hate myself for showing emotion.
I hate myself for attempting to love.
I hate myself with a burning passion.
I hate myself for all that I am.
I hate myself for crying my eyes out.
I hate myself for trying to stand.
I hate myself, nothing can change that.
I hate myself for not having died.
I hate myself for cutting the rope.
I hate myself, for the failed suicide.
I feel the grip of my own self-hatred.
I feel the cold, hard hand of God.
His grip is cruel, his humor worse.
He sent me from being happy, to this lonely rotting hearse.
I hate myself because o
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Comments6
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Really good >w< I even sighed right now Very well done indeed