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Just a few of the millions of poems I've written while trying to cope.

Another Anti-Depressant Poem
What is eating me alive?
Stabbing pains in my stomach...
is there a reason?
I take those crazy pills one after the other,
a routine that has perhaps become too much
of a routine and less of an improvement.
Anger runs through me,
hollow tunnels of my veins,
right into my tired heart.
Fear rushes through my brain,
looking for a way out,
but settles itself in the corners,
hiding in the darkness,
until it is unleashed again.
What eats the pills after they pass my tongue?
Is there something inside that chews them up
and spits them out,
before they can be helpful to me?
They make no difference anymore,
except that now when I think of death,
I think of freedom,
and not suffering in another world
like this one.
Sometimes it even puts a smile on my face,
a smile that only pauses for a moment,
as I swallow another daily dose
of absolute nothing.

After All This Living
My hunger,
my longing,
drips over the doorknob
of death's closed door,
while others sing love songs
out of open car windows
while driving down occupied streets
on fresh, quiet spring days.
My life is scattered.
Dreams of fame
used to boil over
my vulnerable, adolescent mind
as though it would make a difference
in my solemn feelings
of life and death.
There were times when I tried to pretend
that being a walking disappointment
was a thrill;
that simply not caring
would stop the trembling, the nervousness
one feels when they hate everybody
and they are all alone.
After all this living,
I still just want to fall through
the fingers of life's hands,
as though I weren't meant to be,
and settle comfortably in the dirt.

When You Want To Know Why
I get tired of hiding all this pain,
this wanting to die,
don't they know I'm insane?
But I'm still out there,
still fighting,
still living my life the same.
I never fit in anywhere,
I never really wanted to,
because I never really cared.
I make time for love
once in a while,
I've learned pretty well
how to fake a smile,
and how to lead them on
and make them believe
that they really and truly
want to be with me.
Some even think
that I'm worth all the pain,
all the lies that I tell,
the emotional strain.
After all the fun is had,
I push them away
with my disappearing act.
And then my life is back
and I choke on the pills
I have to eat like snacks,
because sometimes I still
worry too much
about what others think,
I pour my pain
into bottles,
and you want to take a drink
of something lethal,
something I have
that you don't need.
You wish you knew
what really goes on
inside of me.
A taste of the mental hell, I suppose,
the one that pissed on my glimmer of hope,
the one that attacked all my dreams?
Where did they go?
The dreams and the faith
that somebody took away.
I have nothing inside,
but fear and empty space.
They still ask why
but I can't find the words
to explain.
"I don't know"
is all I could ever say
to a disappointed face. [/u][/b][/i]
 
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