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Out of Somewhere Blue

At group therapy we met

Eye contact at a premium

In terms of looks she was

Bordering upon medium


Mam and brother hated

She came to stay at mine

I rarely saw her sober

She hid a stash of wine


I really tried to love her

But I didn't have a clue

She'd bled, half-formed,

Out of somewhere blue


Men she cordially hated

I was a means to an end

A saf...

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bluegroup therapydepressedmoodysuicide

Loudest in the Room.

A simple note to explain doesn't seem long enough
To bring on one sheet my final feelings and thoughts

Why am I doing this and what lead me here?
It wasn't just one event and the timing wasn't near.

I'd start when I was younger but who can remember that far back?
Unfortunately I do with every panic and anxiety attack.

You'd probably start to see why by the time I finished 10th grade

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Depressionsuicidethoughtsanxietypanic attack


This poem is deeply personal to me and is about my time I spent as a crisis worker helping people who were experiencing mental health emergencies or attempts of suicide. The subject of this poem is suicide; please know that its contents could be triggering. If you or someone you know and love are experiencing suicidal thoughts or need to reach out, please don't hesitate to talk to someone. You are...

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bereavementdeathlife lessonmental anguishmental health awarenesspreventionpsychologysuicide

A battle with self.

In a dusky morning, the sun was setting,
Wanted to scream in a silent mic.

No more of this frustration, no more of this hatred,
Death was the only freedom came to his mind.

Listening to the people, listening to himself he realised,
Many a things don't matter, So does his life.

Losing his hobby, his like, his ego, his pride.
Losing his humanity, was what it was like.

'Try to stay po...

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battledepresseddepressionhopelesssuicide depressionsuicidepainemptinesslifestruggle


wanted to cry,

but smiled,


wanted to talk,

but stayed silent.


wanted to feel happy,

but endured all the pain.


wanted to live,

but died.




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You wanted to live

Pressure was too much

Pain was unbearable 


You tried tried 

But you failed to heal


You were worth all of it

But they made you feel de trop


You just wanted to be happy

But all they gave you was sadness


You wanted someone to comfort you

But all they gave you was negligence 


You wanted to live

But soon they made you dead



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Please don't abuse yourself 

i know it's suffocating you


I know the pain is unbearable 

and you want everything to just end


Please put that knife away

it's for chopping vegetables 

not for ripping apart your wrists


Please throw that rope away

its for hanging clothes

not your precious soul


I know it's hurting you

i know it's bad


But pleas...

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i loved the feeling of blood flowing down my wrists,

the sensation of pain used to make me feel alive.


i was not afraid to lose my life,

because i was already long lost.


thoughts of killing my ownself dint scare me,

beacuse death was my only desire.


people used to say i am going crazy,

but they never felt my pain.


i tried, i tried so many times,

to li...

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The Living Room -A deep sea affair- (Please don’t drown)

It has been two years today
Since I have had a fight with my then girlfriend
And, crying bitterly, I entered the living room
Replied to my father’s concerns
And let him know his daughter was dating a girl.
No wonder he hasn’t spoken to me since.

But, this poem isn’t about me
And nor is it about a cousin sister of mine
Whose phone was found in the living room
Full with smuts and gay stor...

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Fathersmasculine toxicitytoxicdeathsuicidegay

Reason to Stay

When sun comes against all odds

And the colours of life just pop

Or when the rain falls

It falls and falls

And you wet your lips

With piping hot tea

With warm biscuit

Savour the crumbs

Cosy and safe

In the arms of a jumper

The padding of the sofa,

Like a huge hug

Or when your face aches,

Your stomach vibrates

Because you are fighting to breathe

Through ...

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depressionsuicidepreventionpositivemental healthtomorrowchangeappreciatelifebeautymomentsmemoriesnostalgiahidden beauty

A poem for my late father, Bernard.

Twas the dawning of Father's Day, so said Facebook
Not a feeling was stirring, not even a fuck.
No flowers were planted by the headstone with care
Cos a mad pauper's grave can have no headstone there.

The children were restless, and not in their beds
Cos visions of suicide danced in their heads
Of white overalls and of tablets and shame
And sickness and pimping, a life quite insane.


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AIDSDeath of a parentHIVprostitutionsuicide

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