wegh

Excuse our bad poetry skills please!! ^^

I used to walk because I was scared

I used to run because I was cold

I used to run because I was cold

for doom

or for hope

that's really just neutrality

the same thing

always

Where my soul is forcibly removed,

Where it leaves only a faint trail,

just to open that up as an opportunity, i don't think that's really something that people would.... Do? Though? so anyway we might become more of a traveling poet, and we're unsure if we would reblog the post we make poetry out of or screenshot it and post privately :3

So comfortable

Falling into a hole

A strong grip pulling me in,

And I know i won't fall.

I know ill only float.

And I'm lying to myself.

I've already hit the bottom.

I know it's not safe here anymore. Not for me.

Not ever.

But maybe,

maybe im okay with laying on the cold dirt floor for a little bit.

maybe im okay with the rocks hitting my thighs.

it'll all pass eventually

won't it?

its so funny; i was so scared of that idea, just until recently.

maybe i just suck.

ill

its funny to feel ill

and i know i haven't eaten

and i know that's probably why

and i know if i leave now,

i know i might get better.

but will i? who's to say?

me?

us?

im too nauseous, im too tired,

i know i should

but my legs are weak

strong enough to walk,

but weak enough to fall,

and hitting my knees on the pavement will hurt.

maybe more. maybe less.

A reason for death, a reason for life, a reason for murder, a reason for walking your life day-to-day.

But maybe that reason isn't anything of importance.

Maybe it doesn't matter.

Why should I care whether or not theres morals behind me living or dying?

Living, I'm a threat to society.

Dying, I'm another fallen in the horde,

soon to be stepped on, I'll cause somebody trip, fall,

But is it my business whether they get up?

Is it?

Wouldn't it be?

Wouldn't it be all mine?

All my business, for something I caused?

But the crowd will keep running.

They'll keep going, despite my loss.

And we'll all fall in the end.

Does it matter?

Why should it?

Why are there so many questions, surrounding life, surrounding death, surrounding morality, surrounding society?

You'd think we'd know by now, we've done it so much. Over and over we'll do it again.

Another one for the horde.

Another one will fall again.

And we'll all fall down someday.

Would have, wanted to die

Because of something we said, or something we didn't?

How much harm have we caused, while trying to help, trying not to offend?

Morals fall down like dominoes. One over the other until they all fall down, toppling over, sprawled over each other like pathetic scraps of wood left over from the deforestation of the forest.

No purpose, nothing other than greed, than want, for others not to hate me.

How would I know what to say? What should I have?

Have I done right? Or have I caused pain? Suffering?

You can be pro endo, willo, tulpa, whatever, and be anti radqueer.

Systems: You can make them.

Harassing teens online does not make you look better.

Endos are fucking valid.