Wed, 08/01/2018 - 01:18 -- riesasc



I trip and fall.

I feel pain.


A crush tells me that he does not like me the same.

I feel pain.


I get bullied and ostracized on the bus.

I feel pain.


I start to let demons in my head.

I feel pain.


I carry everyone's weight on my shoulders.

I feel pain.


A false father figure abuses me.

I feel pain.


I bottle everything up inside.

I feel numb.


I grab a pencil sharpener...

I feel more pain...


But when I got up,

I felt stronger.


When I walked away,

I moved on and found true love.


When I found better friends,

I was not alone anymore.


When I ignored my demons,

I escaped my own cage.


When I lessened the weight by helping people,

I felt content with a sense of purpose.


When I went for help when I was ready,

I felt safer than before.


When I started to be more open,

I felt more relaxed and closer to people.


But when I let go of that sharpener...

I now will always have a story to tell with a better tool:


My pen.

This poem is about: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741