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*:・゚✧*:・゚Cory's Clash of Creations
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I just want to say for anyone reading my poems are darki don't want to do trigger warnings because i don't want to reveal the theme like that, i want them to be there for those who need them and passed over by those who don't
so just know I rang from SA, SH, ED, and other traumatic stuff
It was a violation. Nothing hurt more than those hands running down the hills.The land cried out, begging for it to simply be over.
All over.
The cold embrace of Death would be better than this pain.
This suffering.
For the grass to turn a pale yellow and for the animals to die of starvation would be better than this suffering brought on by man.
All those men, claiming something of which is not theirs to own.
They took axes to the trees, leaving scars so deep they would never heal.
Soft purple flowers grow over those deep abrasions, but even their beauty can never hide the damage done.
All those men with their firm grips and harsh faces.
Nothing but selfish thoughts in their heads - they claimed it was for need, whether to ease their conscience or mine I know not- but there are so many other ways.
The women.
The women no better, going through and foraging first.
Taking small but equally important plants out of the earth.
Between the two, what could have been a beautiful and blossoming clearing was destroyed.
Broken beyond repair.
Those who noticed refuse to see, leaving the land to fight a battle it could never win.
It's too late You hate when those spikes show through
When you snap and show your claws
But you’re just so trapped
Hysteria, paranoia..
..more monsters lurk beneath the shell you call a body
You know there is one way to fix it
But it’s regression
What is regression?
Why does one person get to decide what is and isn’t good for you?
Isn’t that much the issue in the first place?
They think they know what’s good for you
They don’t know
No one knows
They don’t know
So then what, love?
Force your fists into every surface that may break them?
Cut yourself into oblivion?
Stay away from everyone so they can’t see your skin breaking, no longer to hold you together?
Pray that you die naturally because you just can’t do that to her?
Then what?
What do you do when it doesn’t happen?
When you’re withered away so much on the inside you can’t even feed yourself?
When your hollow eyes make you fingers talons and you destroy everyone you care about because you just can’t figure out how to kill yourself?
But it’s good like that, right?
Not feeling is beautiful.
Nothing.
Pure fucking bliss.
They can’t even phase you
Fuck, you’re not even human anymore
When the monster comes out to play?
Prey.
They’re all prey.
And you better be ready for the damage you cause
For when you realize you are the monster
And it’s not them
Not anymore
But maybe you’ll be so cold you won’t even notice.
Won’t even care.
But that’s what you want, right?


Here ya go!