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OliverTreeLver

OliverTreeLver

Jvnk
Feb 17, 2023
37
Hello! This will be the thread that I will post all my poetry, short stories, and writing bits. I will slowly add day by day different chunks of writing and links to where you can read them if they grow bigger than the chat limit- I really hope you enjoy, and please keep any criticism as constructive. No need for unnecessary hate ^^'

Just a warning, there will be some more extreme writing's that may happen, so proceed with caution. I will always label possible triggers at the top of the writing and censor any graphic pieces for your viewing pleasure. Thank you for understanding!


#1: Nail Cutter (TW: mentions of SH)

Clip, clip, the sound rings through the air,
As I trim my nails, trying not to despair.
My skin is battered, scarred and sore,
But with each clip, I hope for more.

I used to find solace in the pain,
But now I'm trapped, in this endless chain.
The urge to scratch is always there,
A constant reminder of my despair.

I hate the way my skin looks and feels,
The scars and scabs are too real.
I want to stop, but it's hard to let go,
Of the only relief I've come to know.

Sometimes I wish I could just give in,
Let the scratching consume me, let it win.
But I know that's not the answer, not the way,
To heal the wounds and find a brighter day.

So I clip away, day after day,
Trying to keep the beast at bay.
But sometimes it feels like a losing fight,
And all I can do is cry into the night.

My nails may be short, but the pain remains,
A reminder of the darkness that stains.
I hope one day I'll find a way,
To heal the wounds and keep the darkness at bay.

Until then, I'll keep on clipping,
And hope that someday, I'll stop slipping.
And find a way to love my skin,
And let the healing process begin.
 
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OliverTreeLver

OliverTreeLver

Jvnk
Feb 17, 2023
37

Do you remember?
(Tw: References memory loss)


The winter is a tempest that blinds me. The fury of snowflakes clings to my hair and blurs my vision, leaving me to see you only faintly, like a specter amidst the storm. You are but a vision, a mirage that shimmers in and out of focus as the flakes swirl and dance around you. Have you left me to my own devices, or have I been too blinded by the radiant star that you once were? The rose-tinted glasses that once colored my world now glare with a blinding, wintry light that outshines even you.


The fog that obscures my sight shrouds you in a veil of mystery. Your silhouette is clear, but the details are elusive, swallowed up by the murk. I see only dark, indistinct forms and a smile that warps into a scowl. The mist conceals you, and with it, the memories of when I could see you with clarity. You always wore black, but now my recollection fails me. Everything fades into an obscurity that feels like a dark light - a paradox that blurs the line between darkness and illumination


Who are you? Why do you address me? What do you seek from me? Do we have a past? What do you hope to gain from me? Endless queries fill my mind. Where am I? What do you look like? Where am I? I can't remember. Where are you? Who am I? Must I go to you? Where am I? I don't recall. Who am I?


Do you remember?
 
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