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How great to find a place like this to post on. I have actually mentioned my current writing project in Random Thoughts but this is definitly much nicer. Anyway, moving on. Really alot of what i work on are short stories or poems. Not alot of people read my stuff mainly because i am afraid of what they'll have to say about it. I guess though, that it should be easier online because I dont know any of you. Feedback would be nice, but go easy on me. Im a budding artist. (HA) So, here goes nothing.


You sit alone

Thinking you're hidden

and watch the pain

trickle down your arm

You think its gone

but your wrong.

Its not a pain

you can force out

You have to cry



Or you cant feel



You sit alone

thinking you're hidden

contemplating the end.


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  • 2 weeks later...

Yeah, I guess its pretty. I wrote it for a friend of mine who was having some problems, and I never thought of it as pretty. She didnt read it of course but it was a good way to get the feelings out I thought. Alot of the poems I write are for or about my friends actually. Thanks for your input, Gilliann.


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I know whats it about, i remember when i was suicidal, i was contemplating it. But i never did it. In the past year, ive met 6 girls 5 boys and 3 adults that cut themselves. well...6 girls my age, and 2 that are 12 and 13. This poem is a good way to describe something like this without coming out to say it. i like the part about contemplating death, it gets inside the head of a suicidal. :thumbsup:

its sad, but good.

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For some reason, alot of my poems are centered around death or the morbid. I guess, im every psychiatrists worst nightmare, because Im really not a very morbid person at all. Then again, maybe its all the stuff I surpress like the shrink says. I dunno, but here ya go....more stuff for our happy little friends in white coats. He He He

A shadow land where nothing lives

and darkness time for life never gives

a type of people who do not see

a person there who calls for thee

where pain is ever nagging you

and evil invades each thing that you do.

a place where time will ever roll

and there is no room within the soul.

As before, input would be nice. Im new to this posting thing concerning my poetry. Thanks.


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A very good topic to write about Alecto.

My conception of hell is for ever increasing. I've come to the conclusion that it is a place that offers no hope of ever escaping the feeling of wanting to be away from it.

In life, we always have hope. Imagine no hope and the tip of the infinity of regret will conjure what hell may be like.

Nice writings.

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See what I mean about morbid? Its very strange. Thanks so much for the feedback. I have an entire folder full of stuff i could post. Hmmmmmm...... alright, here's another one. Thanks again.


The night calls to me.

Not as if I must answer


as an invitation to Come and Join in.

I long to be


in the black tones of night but I


the dawn.

What minefield will it show my footsteps in.

Will I pass


while others that follow are


Will he still be there

waiting for me

The questions are too many

and teh answers too few.

I will not answer this


Instead I will sleep again

until the day awakens me and

sheds the light for the

monotonous trodding

of another day.

Thats it. yet another piece of my morbid self.


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