Submissions by Pain_2_Beauty

You don’t understand the sound a bullet makes when it hits the flesh of a living soul. Who breathes this earth’s air just like you do. It’s tormenting to those, digs into their skin, wishing those vivid imageries would finally just end. It’s a life now taken, to the ones out there back home. From the wars once fought, from Afghan, Iran, and many more to come. PTSD is strong. It’s a mental virus, eating, searing, killing away brains cells day by night . . . then sending you back into another episode; we could call a panic attack, anxiety attack. Memories are on attack. They never seem to end....

Life. . .


Small word ain’t it. Filled to the rim with so much meanin. Makes this world seem so compact, with only one designation, a downward spiral of disappointment . . . devastation. So much pressure. So much pain. So much of everything. Claws clenched around my vocal cords, tugged, and pulled out. They implanted a new set, so I talk in their way. “Happy”. A façade voice. I’m living my life behind a voice that ain’t mine. I’m trying to shake the cords so you can, PLEASE HEAR ME . . . cry out. SCREAM out for that help. Those letters; S.O.S. drawn into sand, precisely in that...

My Mask



She

A girl

So happy it seems

Lived in a world of depression

And being lost in her made up reality

People saw her

With a personality so bright

Not knowing

She cried herself to sleep at night

Walking around this town

This world

Wearing a mask

To hide her past

Her present

Cutting away lies she told

Ones not bad

Only the hidden

UNKOWN

She wears long sleeves and baggy pants

As to fulfill more of this...