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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Mind at Workdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Rhaine
    ASL Info:    25/Yes/An Alley
    Elite Ratio:    3.87 - 660/744/196
    Words: 480
    Class/Type: Random Thoughts/Depressed
    Total Views: 788
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2621



    Description:
       hm.


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsMind at Workdots
    -------------------------------------------


    I think I have a problem.
    Tarie showed me her secret.
    Her secret opened a door I had closed a long time ago.
    It was an ugly time and I was an ugly person.
    It makes me bleed metal to think about it. Bleed metal?
    What does that mean?
    I don't know.
    I go to the bathroom a lot when I am at home.
    I weigh myself before and after.
    It makes me angry to see how much I weigh. But I don't like feeling like that.
    Scales scare me.
    It's weird, like I think it is Tarie.
    I'm scared of her.
    I actually hate her.
    She is supposed to be a friend.
    She hurt me.
    I feel like all the muscles in my body are contracting.
    I feel tight.
    I cry for no reason sometimes.
    I don't know there may be a reason.
    There are so many things I want to change about me.
    I can't sleep.
    I don't like to eat, thinking about wanting to sleep makes me sick.
    Then when I get tired I get scared.
    Like I feel that I won't wake up.
    I think about death a lot.
    But I am not suicidal.
    I love life.
    I love it so much it scares me.
    I don't think people would like me as much if they knew me.
    My friends, they don't know me.
    Nobody does.
    I miss Kim.
    She killed herself.
    She told me.
    It's a great burden to carry.
    To tell your friend to shut up when she is trying to say goodbye.
    It was at a basketball game.
    I used to feel guilty.
    I don't anymore. And that fact makes me feel it again.
    Sometimes I imagine my brother or mom or dad has died.
    Every time, it was very gruesome.
    I turn my head really fast to get rid of those thought.
    Am I crazy?
    Because I know or I think I know these thoughts are not normal.
    They're demented.
    I see things.
    I hear things.
    The word thing is the only term I can think of to describe them.
    I don't think that they're really there.
    I hear "things" others don't.
    Maybe they're deaf.
    My wrists ache and burn right before something bad or sad happens to me or around me.
    I don't like mirrors.
    I think I'm fake.
    I guess I'm not crazy.
    Maybe they are.
    It's not me.
    They're dead and fake.
    I can smell it.
    The poems that I write are so full of shit.




    Submitted on 2006-05-28 14:21:16     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      I'd be willing to bet you either felt a whole lot better after writing this, or a whole lot worse. Most likely the first one. I think everyone needs a good rant once in awhile and I am very impressed that this came out so well. Usually when I write something like this, my emotion gets in the way of the part of my mind that cares about the write and it becomes a pile of literary dog crap. This definitely is your mind at work. As far as your friends not knowing you, I understand that concept completely. I think you have to really be a different kind of person to be a writer. I think that's why writers get along so well together. It's like "finally! someone sort of like me!"

    This was really good. I liked it.

    Keep writing
    ~Venia
    | Posted on 2007-04-16 00:00:00 | by Venia | [ Reply to This ]
      i like the style this is written in, quite literally your mind at work. the continious flow of thought after thought, provoked a few of my own thoughts, about questioning yourself for thinking strange things. i'm now satisfied that everyone must do it.
    | Posted on 2006-05-28 00:00:00 | by southernswagger | [ Reply to This ]


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