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Literature Text
I'm tired of watching the clock tick to single digits
Sleep, why have you left me?
I hate your absence
Since there is nothing to fill it
But my own stupid, screaming thoughts
Sleep, why have you left me?
I hate your presence
Yet the only time I can escape you
Is when I need you most
Sleep, why have you left me?
I'm tired all the time
But you still elude me
It gets harder to handle by the day
Sleep, why have you left me?
Maybe I pushed you away without knowing it
Maybe staying awake with my thoughts
Is better than falling asleep
And seeing the images in my head
That I think are real upon waking
Sleep, I know why you left me
Because I wanted you to leave
But, Sleep, even though you hurt me
Can you please come back?
Sleep, why have you left me?
I hate your absence
Since there is nothing to fill it
But my own stupid, screaming thoughts
Sleep, why have you left me?
I hate your presence
Yet the only time I can escape you
Is when I need you most
Sleep, why have you left me?
I'm tired all the time
But you still elude me
It gets harder to handle by the day
Sleep, why have you left me?
Maybe I pushed you away without knowing it
Maybe staying awake with my thoughts
Is better than falling asleep
And seeing the images in my head
That I think are real upon waking
Sleep, I know why you left me
Because I wanted you to leave
But, Sleep, even though you hurt me
Can you please come back?
Literature
ALONE
No one can see the pain that we hide,
They're happy for us to keep it inside,
Our fear is our own; they don't want to know,
Why sould we involve them; why should it show.
You live your whole life in confusion and fear,
The need to feel something unbearably near,
Half of you living, Half of you gone,
And inside you know what your doing is wrong.
The thing's that can help, the thing's that may heal,
Are the flame or the blade and the sting of the steel,
The destruction of skin means the death of your soul,
But there's nowhere to run when your living alone.
Literature
Depression
I'm tired of being here,
all locked up in my head.
Every day I hear a whisper,
and I'm closer to being dead.
Something taps me on the shoulder,
something I can't fight.
When it talks in that low voice,
my eyes are shut so tight.
Once it gets to a cetain point,
and I'm still sitting on the ground,
it tells me to do things,
I'm trying to ignore the sound.
Its voice is harsh and filled with confidence,
and I can hear a hint of sorrow.
Even when it's telling me,
I won't live to see tomorrow.
I don't know what to say,
and I don't know what to do.
I'm still hearing it now,
and I'm still suffering too.
I can't tell what its weak
Literature
Depression
Lay down your right to be human.
Put on a dazzling smile so that no one can see your pain.
You hide it all so well, but underneath your shirt you can still feel the scars.
No one knows what it is like to be you.
Your smile is but one in a billion,
A mask that you wear to ward off the questions.
Your scars are your war paint,
But this is a losing battle.
You are sent to face the demons all alone, though they will never leave your side.
So keep that pretty smile steady,
And don't let one tear drop from those stormy eyes.
Put on your war paint and go out into the world, where your smile makes you just like them.
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Comments5
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Sigh, I miss a normal sleep schedule.