Poem shorts

 

2 years

 

It's been two years now.

Two years of hiding scars and razor blades,

Two years of food deprivation and self-hate,

Two years of therapy and prescribed medication,

Two years of attempted suicide and a hospitilization,

Two years of destructive secrets and violent emotions.

Two years is enough time to look in the mirror and not recognize yourself,

Its enough time to fatigue your mind,

Its long enough for you to wonder when you last genuinely smiled,

Long enough for you to realize that something has to change.

The anxiety and panic attacks need to stop,

As do the self-harm and suicidal thoughts.

I can’t keep living like this, I have to make a difference,

I just hope there's enough left of me to do so.

 

I Want My Mind Back

 

I want my mind back,

I want to pull it back from this monster's possession.

I want my body back,

I want its soft curves and round angles.

I want my stability back,

For a break in these churning waves.

I guess i don't really know what i want,

But I want to understand.

 

Leash 

 

My thoughts are positive

My heart is light, content, and inspired

But there's a weight in my chest

A weariness in my bones.

Deep inside me their is a stone

It drags me down even as i float

It pulls at my ankles and asks me not to go.

How cruel of this monster to give me the illusion of freedom

Even as it holds the end of my leash.

 

A Drop Of Water

 

A drop of water

Insignificant, invisible, powerless

Falling down,

down,

down,

 Onto the surface of a pond.

Creating a ripple,

That creates ripples,

That continues creating ripples,

Until the entire body of water comes alive

Than is still once more

Like glass

But something has changed

The pond is just a little deeper.

A drop of water is all i am

But when i create those ripples

It is everything i am

And even when that drop of water settles to the bottom,

Those ripples continue forever. 

 

The Language I Speak

 

The language i speak is not one you would know

My voice is composed of symphonies 

My sentence the stroke of a brush

I speak through metaphors and poetry.

When my tongue fails me,

I speak with scales and notes,

And if words can't describe it,

Pictures can. 

This language has connected me to the soul of the world,

Still isolates me from my own kind.

I have yet to find another human

Who speaks a language quite like mine.

 

Edge Of The Pier

 

I dont walk the edge of the pier

For fear I'll feel compelled to jump.

I spend restless, broken nights staring at the ceiling

Praying I won't wake up.

When i think of comfort

My mind goes to hair curlers and razor blades.

I fall to pieces in the shower

Wondering why god had to make me this way.

Im exhausted from battling my own thoughts

I just want to end the pain. 

 

This Monster

 

I want to destroy this monster

Scream, claw, tear it to pieces 

Cry for the pain it's made me cause others

Yell for the pain it's made me inflict on myself

Stab it for the viscous thoughts it put in my head

I want to strangle it, burry in in a wasteland

I want to kill it like it wanted me to kill myself

But i can't because it lives inside of me

The only way to reach it is through my own skin

The only way to starve it is bt exposing my own ribs

The only way to kill it is by slitting my own wrists

Or live as a host to this murderous parasite.  

 

Parasite

 

Mental illness is like a parasite.

It infects you, slithers in through your eyes, your ears, nose, mouth,

Where it sits inside of you, making your body a host.

It starts slow, a queasiness in your stomach as it feasts on the tissue.

As it eats, it grows, expanding into your lounge, heart, finally your brain.

It gradually consumes you, bit by bit

Until it is no longer inside of you

But it becomes a part of you.

It starts to control the way you feel, think, and behave

Your body no longer belongs to you.

Every day becomes an ongoing battle as you try to fight what is now your other half,

As you try to get yourself back.

You can't let this parasite take full control

But it's already too much a part of you to push it out,

At least not without hurting yourself in the process. 

 

Pointless Comfort

 

It burns where i drew blood

Drew blood for no good reason at all

Other than being used to it.

Maybe i just like how familiar it is

Maybe it's just an automatic defence against emotional pain

Maybe I was just looking for the comfort it never brings.

I don't enjoy doing it,

But if i dont the thought of doing it pictures me

Like a craving that won't go away

Until is satisfied

Only to come back over and over again.

 

If I Painted The Walls Red

 

What if i painted the walls red with my own blood

Would you say it's a masterpiece?

If my body were a work of art

Would you hang it in a museum?

String it up by its throat for all the world to see.

If my flaws made me beautiful

Would you still try to erase them?

Nobody wants to see beautiful things,

They would much rather witness gore and madness

If i painted the walls red with my own blood,

It would just be like red ink.

If Mirrors Took Photographs

 

I wonder what would happen if mirrors took photographs,

If everytime we looked at them, that moment was captured.

We could watch how we changed over time

Witness our own evolution.

I wonder what secrets the glass would reveal,

Secrets I would probably break the mirror to keep.

 

Mood Swings

 

Mood swings.

From rivers, to ice, to dynamite

I can withstand a blizzard, but break under a drop of water.

I want a soft body, as i actively starve myself

My mind races with tasks to complete, but my body is too tired to carry them out.

As drained as i feel, i can't seem to slow down

And i can't sleep until i make ice, ice, i need to make ice.

I want to get better, i don't want to hurt myself, i feel content

But why do I have a strong urge to cut my arms?

In my darkest moments i wish to hang myself.

My mind does not make sense at all

That is why it's so hard to explain.

I can hardly keep up with its ever changing cycles

The cycles that always end in a circle.

 

Old Soul

 

My skin is young

But my soul feels old

As though it's seen more years than I've been alive.

Weary, waisted, waiting to die

My body is to youthful

For this ancient heart of mine. 

 

Mother Earth

 

Wrap me up in mother earth's womb

Let her packed, dirt walls embrace me,

Her strong roots keep me warm.

In the darkness of her stomach,

Let me rest.

The toxins from the world above cannot penetrate here

The only sound is that of the earth's heartbeat

But I cannot hear in my eternal slumber.

I dream only of silence, nothing more

For the only reality i ever wanted

Was for reality to end.

I sleep with a smile, if nothing else, there is peace in death.

Take my body from my mothers arms,

Bury it in another.

 

Weight Of The sky

 

I will carry the weight of the sky on my shoulders

Without making a single protest.

I will bury the bodies of my loved ones

And not shed a single tear.

I can meditate every small war,

My voice never raised.

When my heart is purged of all joy,

I still wont cry out.

Drive a dagger through my back,

And I will smile through the pain.

Once the walls are washed of my blood

And the world is quiet and safe

Only then will my pisces scatter

This is when I choose to break.

 

Just A Little Light

 

I wish to carve a little nook out of this world,

One so small, it's almost invisible.

From my little corner

I will weave pockets of love,

Threads of hope,

And snippets of wisdom.

I will send them out into the world, packaged in a kiss blown from my fingertips.

Where they go from their, i do not know,

But maybe they will touch a heart, a soul, or a weeping chasm.

It's the simple things that make this world bearable

And if shedding a little more light is all i can do,

Then I will do just that.

 

Frozen Facade

 

How can you be so strong, yet break so easily?

Your petals can withstand a storm

But a drop of water scatters them.

Do you ever get scared walking on ice?

Even though it appears solid, you know any moment it could crack.

Crack like the mirror that dictates my worth

Crack like the facade thats biome my identity

Crack like the picture that paints my reality.

When your whole world is made of glass,

You know any minute it could shatter. 

 

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

Comments

Overcomer

Wow, these are really, really good. I can relate to a lot of them too. You use metaphors really well, I appluad you on that. These carry a lot of meaning, and they are really amazing. Well done. If you wish, I've been posting some poems lately, feel free to check them out.

weepingwillowtree

thank you! 

Overcomer

Of course, I loved reading these.

champsundeen

It's well
Life no go shame us
Keep on

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