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do you know what its like, to live in your shadows
to forever walk in the echos of your mistakes.
To listen to the noise that clouds your mind
to want to kill those that have heard your stories
and believe you an eternal infidel.
between the lightness of air and the tipover to land
she stood unmoving
waiting for the line to still.
her arms spread out in-line
she jumpstarted her memory.
.
the strings were slippery but still she tied them
the line was taut, still she tugged.
one voice adviced her, she ignored
the stubborn fool she was.
..
‘ i love you ‘ she whispered
before she took one tentative step forward,
and plummeted to her death.
i came here hoping i wouldn’t see you
that you wouldn’t see any greatness in me
that i wouldn’t have to flee.
It’s been a few weeks.
I haven’t learnt to talk much.
I’ve found the occasional word.
But I have to learn to speak faster than the damned are catching up.
By night I feel I need to make that call
and then its day and I forget what it felt like
and then its night again.
I let myself go because I cannot not be afraid in just one night, when
I took more than a year to wake up to footsteps.
Observant and sensitive, they call it
its fear.
.
Whoever you are, if you think you can help me, reach me somehow.
Yesterday, someone said “If you know yourself, you won’t lose yourself”.
And right away, I questioned its accuracy.
I think, the better we know ourselves, the clearer it becomes when we’re losing who we are.
In the race to please everyone around us, to gain acceptance and approval
It’s easy to lose your identity and take on snippets of what everyone wants us to be.
.
For I touched my heart to feel it pump
but it was cool and slightly taut
and in between the chambers without blood
I’d given up my secret part.
.
Dedicated to all people who are feeling like they’re losing themselves. It may not mean much, but you’re not alone. It’s easy to say, be who you are, and be true to yourself. But what when you’ve run after feet of clay for so long, you’ve forgotten who you are?
I have lost a schoolmate
but still a name and statistic to many, including me.
He has lost a brother
and they have lost a child.
You have lost a student
The world has lost a math whiz
someone that is now but a could-have-been
We have all lost to the demons of his mind.
We have all lost.
.
For no one can truly know your mind, unless you tell them so. If everything happens for a reason, I would like to tell you that you are my reason. You woke me up to the pain that parents of a child lost to suicide has to live with, the questions that will never fully be answered, and a family that will henceforth be like a jigsaw missing a piece.
when i go where you can’t reach me
you won’t find me anymore
and when you call my name to hold me back
i won’t hear from behind the door
.
i tried for everyone
and yet they creep in further on me
till all i could see were their hands in my face
and i shut them out to breathe
.
as you take your time
to retract your hands
to let me live outside a corner
ill learn to walk
my shining blade
till i hear your voice once more.
when you read this letter, do not go around the house looking for me or mummy.
go to Auntie Fanny next door and tell her tocall the police.
remember to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’
I have gone into the woods, and mummy is still sleeping,
but both of us will never be return home.
For the rest of your days, you may have to move
from home to home
in foster care
and many times, you may not want to live anymore.
But even as you press that penknife blade to your beautiful wrist,
or tip that bottle of pills into your mouth that i used to place your milk bottle to,
remember that we are watching over you.
tell the police that you have no mummy
because she wanted another daddy,
then tell them you have no daddy
because he could not forgive himself.
Love you very much,
Daddy.
.
Dear Daddy & Mummy,
because you said you were watching over us,
you will know that jaime has been raped every night for the last 3 months
and is now also asleep, like mummy.
i helped her.
i am writing this in the woods
with a penknife in each of my wrists
and a bottle of pills to help me sleep soonest.
I have told Auntie Fanny that I am
heading for the woods.
Loved,
Julee
.
The first letter is what I imagined was contained in a letter a man wrote to his two young girls telling them not to panic when they couldn’t find him and his wife. He has earlier killed his wife for returning to her adulterer and he later went into the nearby woods and drilled through a leg and an arm, and died. By no fault of their own, the two girls, names unknown, have been made orphans overnight.
you make me move, in that shake
my world trembled and i felt like screaming, only my feet were dancing
there was no music, and when i finally dropped dead
beautiful laughter reverberated inside my head
and I reached out for the innocent penknife
put the tip inside, slid it under my skin
and cut smoothly through the flesh.
maybe, then maybe, after i’m done with separating the two,
ill move on to dig inside the red tubes,
to remove life, and let my heart rejoice in its fountain of death
until it finishes its duty.
i ought to have burnt and smelt the fire catch up with me.
under that tanned cracked layer her nerves showed, the white substance that oozed out bit by bit, and yes, she smiled as she squeezed out more. it didn’t hurt.
She stuck out her feelers, her eyes white on black
she looked right then away so she wouldn’t get caught.
Touched by a blade of grass, it fragrance overwhelming
her mind was flooded, almost fully submerged,
she retreated into the empty room
where she knew the living and the pain and feared naught.
.
look away so no one sees the frustration
that makes you want to tear out your guts
merge flesh with windowpanes and snow out your brain.
look back so she knows, you’re trying and crying and dying.
I’m trying, and I don’t think I can push myself any further any faster. But i’ll try harder, again.

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