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Literature
Shadows
Shadows
The little girl never slept very well. She didnt like the dark. In her twilight lit, dusty room, she watched the gas lamps outside flicker and fade, casting eerie shadows dancing on her walls, which scared her more. When she did sleep (which was in snatches), she dreamt that the shadows on her wall would come alive and drag her away into their evil world. Her father laughed when she told him, telling her that big girls never had nightmares. Shaking her head weakly, she snuggled deeper into her covers, trying to block the shadows away. For a while, it was working and the girl drifted into light fearless sleep. Then
A grat
Literature
Krisengebiete
Wenn Berge aus Stahl nach Osten rollen,
ins Morgenland, wo Affen tollen.
Aus Menschenschweiß,
für Menschentränen
und Menschenblut,
wo Menschen sehnen.
Von Menschenfleisch
zu Menschenbrand,
zu Menschenstaub im wüsten Sand.
Des Menschen Gier
zu Menschenasche.
Silbern glänzt es in der Tasche.
Literature
Untitled
sorry deleted
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Featured in Groups
This was written a while ago.
4 years ago, I told my family and close friends that I struggle with cutting myself as an outlet for the anger and pain I hid inside. 3 years ago, I left home to seek treatment for the way I was treating myself. 2 years ago, I moved back home, equipped with tools and methods to ignore that struggle, and to move forward. 1 year ago, I stood over the fragmented mirror I had just dropped, struggling whether to go back, or stay strong.
This was the passion I poured onto the page, black ink bleeding into the new page like I wanted to watch my blood pour out.
With God's strength, I resisted, and this poem and my memory is the only testaments to that struggle; not scars imprinted on my skin.
Today, I can honestly say, I'm not cured. I don't know if I'll revert tomorrow, the next day, next week, next year, or not at all. But I can say, I'm not a cutter today. I didn't cut yesterday.
And I'll do my best not to cut tomorrow.
If you struggle with cutting or self abuse, please, talk to someone. Be it your best friend, Mum, sister; or even a complete stranger like me, it will do you more help to speak it out than to keep it in.
Because when you keep it in, it hurts until it comes out.
I know.
4 years ago, I told my family and close friends that I struggle with cutting myself as an outlet for the anger and pain I hid inside. 3 years ago, I left home to seek treatment for the way I was treating myself. 2 years ago, I moved back home, equipped with tools and methods to ignore that struggle, and to move forward. 1 year ago, I stood over the fragmented mirror I had just dropped, struggling whether to go back, or stay strong.
This was the passion I poured onto the page, black ink bleeding into the new page like I wanted to watch my blood pour out.
With God's strength, I resisted, and this poem and my memory is the only testaments to that struggle; not scars imprinted on my skin.
Today, I can honestly say, I'm not cured. I don't know if I'll revert tomorrow, the next day, next week, next year, or not at all. But I can say, I'm not a cutter today. I didn't cut yesterday.
And I'll do my best not to cut tomorrow.
If you struggle with cutting or self abuse, please, talk to someone. Be it your best friend, Mum, sister; or even a complete stranger like me, it will do you more help to speak it out than to keep it in.
Because when you keep it in, it hurts until it comes out.
I know.
Comments9
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I think this is a very beautiful piece about this sort of struggle that people have, but I'm sorry to say that for #PennedPaper i'll have to reject this piece because it's in more than 6 groups.
You're free to submit works that are in less than 6 groups to us though.
Sorry,
*AzeeraTheNinja - #PennedPaper
You're free to submit works that are in less than 6 groups to us though.
Sorry,
*AzeeraTheNinja - #PennedPaper