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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I think I was a sophomore in high school when I wrote this. Was such a little depressing little shit.

Submitted: May 26, 2015

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Submitted: May 26, 2015



This isn't what I wanted, to suppress the feeling of worthlessness and purposelessness. I meant to fix these problems and I've only thrown them in my closet and sealed it up with a smile and lies. But these skeletons in my closet are growing tired of the dark and are starting to reveal what's behind this barricaded door that is my shame. I keep a constant pressure on the door with my back as the skeletons bash away. The only sound I can hear over the devilish screams of the nightmares, is the cries of a lonely girl that I have let down. that I let die in the inside. For this, I deserve for these door hinges to be broken. this door knob to be kicked off and this lock to be turned to let all the darkness from within to drown me in its abyss. I deserve to feel all these people's pain that I hurt and ridiculed. It is time for me to search the bottom of every pill bottle till I am no more. so I stand up and take a couple steps away from my closet door, turn around, and stare. Doorknob turns, door swings open slowly. And Here I am, staring at death. Almost like staring into a mirror. So I step in the closet in join him. It may be cold, it may be hell, but its my hell and I'm trapped in it, waiting for the day I forget again.

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