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    dots Submission Name: Life lead to the death of medots

    Author: atonement
    Elite Ratio:    2.71 - 106/186/98
    Words: 384
    Class/Type: Poetry/
    Total Views: 670
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1992

       Yeah I wrote this last year when I was depressed. I found it in my moms car. I think she took it. Looking back I realized what a dumb shit I was cutting. Cutting= Bad

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

    dotsLife lead to the death of medots

    I sat alone in a cornor of my abandoned house that was once a home. I tried to live life to the fullest. But life at it's fullest brought pressure, tons of it.

    Outside I was a normal teenager, but inside my mind was screaming, I was all out of order.
    My pleas were voiceless.

    So much responsiblity, so much to do, so little time. I try so hard to get it all acomplished but theres so much to do. I just want to scream. But I can't, I have no time.

    Sometimes I would like to have a break, its not a possiblility. It's a goal so far away, something I'll never reach, I relentlessly tell myself. But yet I continue attemptinmg to grasp it. But all I hold is another hollow sense of failure.

    Never had time to be me. never have time for my now distant friends. So this is the best time of my life? There is some much still not touched, so much yet to experince.

    Forver trapt and bound in this prison of my mind. Constantly rediculed in my mind. I consume all the criscim and hate, use it as fuel to cut off myself from the world.

    I am walking down a path of broken glass and rusty razor blade. Every step I take, agonizing pain hits me. Every drop of blood I bleed is a memory of a better time.

    I paint my usual fake smile on this mask of false happiness. I try to cry but my mask will not let me, my eyes are dry. I am untrue to myself.

    My soul is in a coma and no one seems to notice. Slowly dying in the hell of my mind, perishing in the suffering.

    No one can detect my sorrow. My heart charred balck. I have no where to run. I am drowning and no one is saving me.

    Each slit of the wrist brings me closer to scared happiness, deeper and deeper, faster and faster. I cut leaving behind my sorrows and hardships. Until I bleed myself to death. Living life to the fullest lead me to my bloody tradgic death.

    Submitted on 2006-04-14 19:24:43     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      I can really relate to this poem because it shows how i feel pretty much every day. It reminds me of Edgar Allen Poe because it is so depressing. It actually makes me feel somewhat better about myself. Knowing that I'm not the only one who feels like that. I only wish that i could have written it first.later.kiss.kiss.

    luv ya'

    | Posted on 2006-04-16 00:00:00 | by hottpoet | [ Reply to This ]
      ok, well i like it i do. Don't think its the best you have written but it was good. Umm maby to make it more to what you are like now you might want to get rid of 7th stanza and on u can keep like the 8th and rewrite some of the others. The only vreason that i fell it was not as good as it could be and its not entierly you is because it is to overbearing in the pain/suffering catigory and the stuff u use is somewhat poetic but then you loose urslef if you know what i mean. you kind of get out of poetic synic. but it was good.
    Patrick o_riley(but it's really liam)
    | Posted on 2006-04-16 00:00:00 | by patrick o_riley | [ Reply to This ]

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