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my untitled pile of feelings


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why am i still her

why do i feel this way

why do you care

why do i cry everyday

 

why cant i handle life

why cant i just fade away

why cant i die

why do i stay

 

why does it hurt

why do i care

why do i care

why do i care

 

why am i alive

why am i so confused

why am broken

why am i so used

 

why wont i be happy

why wont i smile

why cant i be loved

i will die in a little while

 

you make me happy

you make me crazy

you make good

you make me hazy

 

you make me bad

you make me live

you make me take

you make me give

 

youve always been there

through my ups and downs

through my problems

through my smiles and my frowns

 

you stopped me from cutting

you stopped me from regret

thats why im alive

thats why i havent died yet

 

i dont care what people think

i dont live for them i live for you

i dont struggle for approval or love

i love you for everything you do

 

 

ok that was just coming out i couldnt stop it if i wanted to i dont even know why i feel this way but whatever so this is my poem its not like my other poem its just weird what do you all think? lots of input

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It is sad and yet interesting at the same time. I would love to ask who the "you" is that you are referring to.

 

The thing that I noticed was where you said that you cry everyday, you seem to need direction.

 

Sometimes we feel this way when we are younger and going through some stressful time, I know that you will make it.

 

All of us are here to listen and to help.

 

I wish you peace

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I thought it was very good. I really related to it. Because sometimes I think to myself...wouldn't it just be better if I wasn't here, nobody wants me here anyway. But...then there is that one guy I talk to everyday telling me how beautiful I am and that he is so happy to have found me. So when you refer to "you" which I think is a her I think of him. It was very well written. I'm here for you!

 

~Under~

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Hi. I relate so well to what you have written. I write poems all the time, asking why, how, when? I write to release, I write to stay alive. i was just thinking to day how the darkness makes the light seem so much more real. Being so close to death makes life inexpressibly real. Feeling pain is feeling alive. But one day we will heal...

 

Here is a poem I have written recently, but I can't think of the last line, so maybe someone out there can help:

 

I go where the dead things stay

On gravestones and things wasted away

In darkening skies, heavy and gray

In mournful sighs that drift and sway

 

Drift and sway in silent gloom

Things long past that chill the room

The dreadful past, so thick with doom

Press me on to join them soon

 

Everyday must hold some sorrow

Everyday must fret over tomorrow

But so still the dead, brows never furrow

The silent land of death and sorrow

 

I am what I will be in death

I am the last and parting breath

The quiet words and last respects

..............................at rest

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