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Literature Text
i want to shed this snake skin
over and over until
i am raw, and new, and alive again.
i want to sew my eyes shut
and be blind until
there is something worth seeing.
i want to hibernate through this era
and stay asleep until
the next ice age comes
and the slate of this planet
has been wiped clean,
i want to begin again,
i want to change,
i want to transform into something
that can survive her own mind.
i want to escape,
i want to run away,
i want to create something new.
i want to be found in every lonely soul-mate,
in every last goodbye,
in every broken home,
in every single person,
under 'new-found hope.'
over and over until
i am raw, and new, and alive again.
i want to sew my eyes shut
and be blind until
there is something worth seeing.
i want to hibernate through this era
and stay asleep until
the next ice age comes
and the slate of this planet
has been wiped clean,
i want to begin again,
i want to change,
i want to transform into something
that can survive her own mind.
i want to escape,
i want to run away,
i want to create something new.
i want to be found in every lonely soul-mate,
in every last goodbye,
in every broken home,
in every single person,
under 'new-found hope.'
Literature
Anatomy of Depression
I watch the world go by through my windowpane eyes,
and it turns my kaleidoscope mind.
My lips are a cave by a turbulent sea;
my voice a lonely echo
conversing with itself
because of the big empty within.
My arms witch for water,
but my hands only ever hold deserts.
My skin is a playground
wrapped up in caution tape,
casting chalk outlines
of the body it follows.
My heart cries out in mutiny
against my kaleidoscope mind
as my feet dig deeper in indecision - -
I can feel them taking root in the clay.
Literature
Calm on the Outside
She's hurting,
She's breaking,
She's crying inside.
She's yelling,
She's screaming,
And hiding her eyes.
Yeah you wont,
hear a thing,
It's a-ll inside.
The hurting,
the screaming,
Her smile's a lie.
She stares out,
The window,
And wishes to die.
Or maybe,
When she'll jump,
She'll finally fly.
You cannot,
See her face,
She's hiding it all,
So you wont,
Yeah you wont,
See her fall...
Calm on the Oustside, written by Emma Thrussell, 27/11/12
Literature
The Broken Wall
Milo woke up one morning in a different bed than the one he had gone to sleep in. Even so, the bed he was in now was still his own. He looked up at the ceiling and saw patterns there that he had never seen before and yet he knew they would be there. Sunlight slanted through the window in a line different from what he had expected.
He spent the rest of the late morning wandering through the house. It was full of knick-knacks from places he was sure he had been. Every thing that he found there was his. Every thing that he found there was new to him.
In a daze, he sat down at the kitchen table. His mind was running, but it was buzzing, too. He
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