Sit me down on a couch covered in plush cushions

Ask me my name 

Ask me my age

Ask me why im here

I can answer these questions, I can tell you my name, I can tell you how old i am

But i can't answer that last one, I can't tell you why i'm here

Truth is i don't really know

All i know is that i'm not okay

That my pieces are all scrambled together

And I need you to help me sort them out

That my mind is a mess

That my soul is a wreck

That i'm falling down into a grave I dug for myself

Standing at the bottom of a hole with the shovel in my hand

That i'm drowning in this pain that came out of nowhere

That my tongue is bleeding from all the times I bit down on it

That my wrists are aching from the chains I've bound them with

That this monster called anxiety has moved into my stomach twisting me into knotts

Making a toy of my heart

That my skin is covered in invisible scars i couldn't heal with band-aids

That by back is in ribbons from all the knife's people stabbed into it

That my thoughts are tired of the manipulation

That my shoulders are sagging from this weight i drag around with me

That i'm tired of trying to be something im not

That i'm sick of forcing smiles

That my mentals taken a turn for the worse

That i need to escape the confines of this cage people call a”body” 

You ask me how that makes me feel


Do you really want to know?

Do you really want me to answer that?

I'm dying to tell you, dying to say all the words iv’e tried to swallow down

Trust me i want to let go of this baggage, and everybody says you can help me put it down

But im used to the silence

Nobodys ever heard me before 

Nobodys ever peeled back the many layers of facades and masks to see what's underneath

And i never bothered to show them

At this point I don't even know how to speak up

I'm afraid of what might happen if I do

The truth is burning a hole in my throat but i can't seem to let it past my sealed lips

Im silently begging you not to hurt me

Not to be disappointed in what im about to say

I’ve never told anyone how i feel before

Or not how i really feel anyways

Its just to easy to say “im fine”

To bury the painful truth in beautiful lies

But i'm here now

And i have to answer the question

It's just that I don't know how to

How does that make me feel?

I can't explain these emotions

I could never find words that could make sense out of them

And even if i did you still wouldn't really know how i feel

You cant see inside of me

I could try and tell you how I feel but you still wouldn't feel it

You wouldnt understand the crippling pain

The desperate need to escape

How i feel imprisoned by my own skin

How i feel like i'm drowning

The way I choke on air trying to get oxygen into my lungs

How this pain isn't just emotional its physical to

The headaches, the nousia, the dizziness, everything hurts, everything

I can't explain the terror that takes a hold of me

The feelings of worthlessness, hopelessness, helplessness

Because to you depression and anxiety are just words but right now there my reality

How could I tell you life just doesn't feel worth the effort, that sometimes I'd rather just die

How sometimes my heart literally hurts from the grief i feel

How everyday it gets harder to keep a smile on my face

How sometimes i feel like i'm overflowing and other times feel completely empty


I know how these things make me feel, i just don't know how to explain it to you

And in a way that you would actually understand the depth of this pain

And it hurts me so much because I want so badly to let someone in

I just don't feel like I can trust people

But I also don't feel like I can fight these demons on my own

Im tired at constantly feeling at war with myself

But i know if i tell you how i feel

All you’ll do is give me ways to control the pain because even you can't make it go away

You’ll tell me i just need to change my attitude

That the cup is half full

You’ll give me some bullshit techniques to help calm my anxiety

But how am i supposed to do or complete these tasks

How can i change my thought process when I consider getting out of bed being an achievement?

So I'll just sit here smiling like I always do

Telling you “no really i'm okay”

That this must have been some sort of mistake

And that I'm sorry i wasted your time 

And im sorry im such a disappointment

I just don't feel like I can do this anymore

But thank you for trying.




This poem is about: 
Our world
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