If I Believed In God I Would Ask Him Why He Did This To Me.

If I believed in god I would ask him why he did this to me.

But I do not.

If I believed in myself I would ask me how I let this happen.

But I do not

More Posts from Unlikelyanonymous and Others

3 years ago

What can life offer anyway

That I can't have with you in death?

What feels more like home anyway

Than it does besides your grave?


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3 years ago

Tw: eating disorders and self harm

The monsters in my head. They won't leave.

An empty stomach. A grave where I live.

Scars on my thighs. A strange relief.

A disconsolate existence. A sigh of grief

My shattered childhood. It haunts me still

Whimpers of pain. A broken will.

Venomous family. Full of greed.

Begged you to stop it. It never did.


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2 years ago

I fell for you gently as leaves do on a dreary autumn evening.

You continued to bloom delicately as you were the sweetest child of spring.

Unnoticed for years, my world has been touched by you.

In running away from home, I found a home in you.

I fell for you, like hades fell for persephone

And I am falling, like moon falls around the earth still.

I write this with my love, hoping that you might see this too.

I share this with the world, but really it only ever was for you.


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3 years ago
Spring Is Awaking From Its Slumber 🤍💐🌾
Spring Is Awaking From Its Slumber 🤍💐🌾

Spring is awaking from its slumber 🤍💐🌾

2 years ago

Green eyes

Green eyes more altering than the phases of the moon itself.

Warm green of honeydew when life strikes with kindness.

At crucial times, a poised snake; cautious and still.

A lurid shade of poison ivy, a secret to unveil.

A sea green touch when victorious. A glory to be held.

A lover's touch, an emerald flush. A fondness to be felt.

A steady green of summer leaves, at humour and sheer delight.

Anger darkens them cold and harsh, to the almost black of woods at night.

An endless chase of grief and despair, a helpless shade of teal.

A bleeding heel and olive green. Your eyes they haunt me still.


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3 years ago
He Called Me Neurotic

he called me neurotic

but what i think he really meant

was that the roots of my anxiety

are growing deep within my head

-

sometimes my thoughts run far

away, escape all rhyme and reason

the seeds of logic overthrown

by the fruits of anxious seasons

-

i just take my time to breathe

and think up a solution

i take a minute and i trawl

through the depths of this pollution

-

poison planted in my mind

by words and dirty looks i catch

in a net of pure self hate

in which fearful thoughts hatch

-

he called me neurotic

and sure, ill take it on the nose

my garden of fear and self hate

truly needed that last rose.

-

(photo via)

3 years ago

Future love

Perhaps one day you'll hold me, once and forever.

Intoxicated we will be, lost in each other.

And then in the dark, you will touch the right parts of me.

In hushed tones I will show you, that you and I were meant to be.

Then slowly I will learn, how to truly love me.

And gently I will heal, like all my grief ceased to exist.


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3 years ago

Losing a friend

Ask me where it hurts

Everywhere I'll say

Ask me if I miss you

Everyday I'll say


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3 years ago

Pic via pinterest

Pic Via Pinterest

Is it normal to grieve yourself?

And still yearn the grief?

To know you'll be eternally hurting,

Why is it such a relief?


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The poem as prey, as blood luscious, elusive. The poem as the locked room.

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