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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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![]() Tell me you're home and talk to me, love There are pieces of me shattered on the floor My eyes are scarlet, my skin paler And there's grief pounding on my door It's late I'm tired, on the brink of losing Either my hands Or my heart On the edge Of those cliffs Where one just falls
The shores that just drown In everything that dares to look Through the trackless oceanside waves Thrashing one after another As if breathing Harsh and distorted Trying to live, holding on to the threads of life So subtle There once was a fear Of breaking Something And now My pieces lie shattered on the floor As I wait for you To tell me You're home So I can tell you I'm tired And that I cannot breathe As if the ocean Is leaving the shores Dry And desolated As if Someone is taking My hands And my heart Away While I only wait For you To tell me You're home So I can tell you I'm tired Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
October 2023
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