{"sf1_id":1569716,"sf2_id":null,"title":"Alone","author":"London79","words":891,"posted_at":"2020-04-21T23:12:00.000Z","tags":["Depressive content","Dyshoria","Emotional vent","Poem","Suicidal content"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1569716-alone","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/view/1569716","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=1569716\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"I've been feeling more dysphoric than usual lately so I thought I would voice my emotions in poetic form to the best of my ability, I hope you enjoy","content":"I look through the void a\u0026nbsp; window in time asking myself what to do? all of the things that I have done,\n\n. \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; have taken their toll on my feverish brood.\n\nThis is a role that I can not accept, a daunting ring of the past will I go on in my sickening pace\u0026nbsp;\n\nor will I force my mind to adapt... All of the things that remind me of you are overshadowed by.\n\n. \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; what is next...\n\nThoughts of the blood still fresh in my mind got to relax. got to unwind, these are the wounds the toughest to\n\n. \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; heal but will I go before my time...\n\nLook at her lips the starkest of pink as she wonders on by, think to a time when I would have thought that I\n\n. \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; could have her by my side...\n\nNow I drone on to the painstaking place where the foundations are built upon those who cry.\u0026nbsp;\n\nThis is the plite I knew had to come malicously on the attack, unnerved by the powers that be knowing\u0026nbsp;\n\n. \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; it is me who they will shun...\n\nEvery second that ticks on the clock I know that my time is now spent looking for reason in a hell layden\u0026nbsp;\n\n. \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; world when I know that there is none left...\n\nWhy must this be the path that I live? knowing that soon will come death, holding on to the ones that I touched\u0026nbsp;\n\n. \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; praying that they will forgive...\u0026nbsp;\n\nDeep and dark is the pit of dispair that I find myself upon, wanting so badly to disappear knowing that it will not\n\n. \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; do much...\n\nWhy am I cursed to be of that kind? knowing the hand they are delt, hiding away in a world of my own\u0026nbsp;\n\n. \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; leaving the things I know behind...\n\nSkull crushing sadness that burns from inside leaving me hollow in its wake, where is the strength I must\n\n. \u0026nbsp; find to fight the demons within for I know that the prophecy told that only a woman of cold iron grit\n\n. \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; would be tasked to lead this world against an impending threat...\u0026nbsp;\n\nBut still here I sit wondering aloud would my harsh suicide be so endowed for if I pull the gun to my\n\n. \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; neck would my death be short painless and quick...\n\nWhy couldn't I be born of soft feminine fare? it seems that the universe has layed a hand upon\u0026nbsp;\n\n. \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; my weak, scrawny shell doomed to the depths I shall forever treverse...\n\nBack to the dark with a lonesome call, a great many tears against my cheeks do fall a small wimper in the\n\ncorner-well hides the pain that my emotions quell from my most abhorrent moral ground hopefully peace\u0026nbsp;\n\nwill soon be found, but until that day it does fall, inside a mental cerebral prison cell, surrounded by\u0026nbsp;\n\ncracked, pale grey concrete walls; into the abyss I do yell trying to break this occult-like satanic\u0026nbsp;\n\n. \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; spell...\u0026nbsp;\n\nFeeling deathly ill chained by shackles to a rusty nail all around my holding jail a voice running through my\n\nhead saying I'd be better dead designed like Alcatraz to never fail, but sooner or later I know it will...\n\nplease god what is my crime for me to be doing time? How am I? I feel well, trapped inside dysphoric\u0026nbsp;\n\n. \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp; hell...\n\n  \n  \n\n"}