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the broken

I want to talk about death how it can’t rewind.
Do you hear the family’s
Cries?
The pain of their shattering hearts?


I want to talk about children
The shroud of destruction around them
Mortification in their hearts,
Where smiles should reside.

I want to talk about the guardians, who care,
But continue into darkness.
I want to talk about teenagers
Picking up the slack
Confused on why they must be the parent.

I want to talk about self-delusions
Cutting.
Sedatives.
The Broken.

I want to talk about slit wrists
Dull delusional teenagers.
I want to talk about scars
That are hidden.

I want to say it isn’t the family’s fault,
Death doesn’t care about adolescence, sex, or Ethnicity.

I want to talk about the blade
that cuts their skin bleeding out pain,
Little by little.
How no matter what happens the blade comes back.

I want to talk about self-delusions
Cutting.
Sedatives.
The Broken.

I want to talk about my death,
Stolen dreams,
I want to talk about depression.
How it controls my life.
Its silent words coaxing me.
Telling me I’m not worth it.

I want to talk about my self-delusion.
My cutting.
My sedatives.
I am the Broken.

Death destroyed me
Slayed
Lead
And
Cut me

We want to talk about our
Choice
How it’s the blade slitting us,
The words not spoken
Cause us worse depression.
Everlasting pain we don’t let end
We want to talk about death.



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