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Today,
I stay and reflect.
Like the mirrors floating on a pond, wandering in focus.

At times I am hopeless, distraught, and dazed, pondering.

I'll stop you there, you sad, beaten man.
Do you feel the seas trod upon you, drown you and let you swim further, and further just to regret, forget why you even began?

The shining at the deepest depths is merely a mirror to self-reflect,
to pay respects to what you wish you were.

Did you forget why you're here? Because, in truth, I never forget what I never knew,
why the sky feels the need to fall in disrespect, all upon your war-torn shoulders,
buckling under that very sigh you set free when you realized you're the traitor here, as you just get colder.

varied sighs sing you lies of peace,
poor Icarus, he tried to fly, to plead the sun, to chase infinity.

Do you truly seek peace? You try to run yet create your own inevitabilities, seized by your own dreams. With these ****** knees you've built yourself. Scorned by warnings of your self fulfilling prophecies.

You said so yourself.

First,
find what you need,
then perhaps your ever elusive peace may come,
and bring you to your knees,
to drown in seas of relief.
The war is not over,
Just another day.
Lydeen Dec 2020
Nighttime.
Cars light up my room.

I count.

The moon keeps me awake,
Beaconing.

I can hear you.

Telling me to do it-
Hurt me, you, them...

Everyone.

Thoughts SCREAMING.
Words begging to become actions.

I close my eyes.

Deep, deep, deep breath.
It's just a thought.

Grounded.

Soft sheets, pillows...
Moon, stars, lights.

It's quiet.
:-)
Lydeen Nov 2020
One
Two
Three

One
Two
Three

One
One
One...

Oh
See
Dee

O
C
D

­One
Two
Three

Count
The
Tiles

Pick
Your
Cuticles

twitch
Twitch
TWITCH

tick
Tick
T­ICK

too
loud
Too

Loud
TOO
LOUD

Stop!
Stop!
Stop!

Intrusive
Th­oughts...
They're

way
too
loud...

They
Control
Me

One
Two
Thre­e

One
Two
Three

Count
With
Me

Cracks
and
Imperfections

Count
­With
Me

O
C
D
I guess consider this a part two to the first poem I ever wrote on here, which was about seven. I've moved on from seven to three since then.
noelle Nov 2020
everything is lined up perfectly, except my mind.
the urge to fix that blanket consumes me
because if i don't clean,
something bad will happen.

obsessive: unwelcome thoughts, images, urges, worries or doubts that repeatedly appear in my mind

compulsive: repetitive activities that i do to reduce the anxiety caused by the obsession

i am constantly submerged
in an overwhelming amount of anxiety
caused by little things normal people
would never notice.
indistinctively I took a hasty step
the ground below my feet rumbled
balancing my way on a thread like lawn
comprehending how it's like to be free

thoughts corrupting my mind
compulsive actions I do like mime
I ask myself countless of times
is there an end to this
once upon a time?
Γ€Ε§ΓΉl May 2020
Some parents try to control their children,
There's nothing wrong with controlling them,
No, there's nothing wrong with it, they think,
And they keep on doing it and dictating them.
As they find nothing wrong with it, they do it.
They satisfy the unrelinquished egos of their own,
Suffocating the children even after they grow up.
My HP Poem #1844
Β©Atul Kaushal
shelly May 2020
All I have to do is go around the corner
To the other entrance to the parking lot
This should be easy
Driving is easy
I pull up to the road and look both ways
And horror strikes me to my core
The street isn’t empty

My knuckles turn pale as I grip the steering wheel
Like a cross to keep myself from shaking
My foot is on the gas pedal
The direction that this 3,000 pound machine goes
Is under my control
I lose control of my breath

I pull out onto the street

Swerve into the left lane
My mind says
There’s a family next to you
A mother singing along to the radio
A father stressing about his job
A little girl playing video games in the back
Next to her baby brother, still in a car seat
Their lives are fragile
My mind tells me
Slaughter them

I stop at the stop sign and look both ways

Humans are made of paper and glass
They collapse and shatter in a gentle breeze
And with this car I am Prospero
I can call tempests
I can crush their ribcages
Beneath the weight of metal and horsepower
Even if mother and father live
They must live with the empty space
Left behind by their much more tenuous children
I am collapsing under the weight of the power I hold
I am overwhelmed with visions of what I could do
What I might do
What I fear I will do

I turn the corner

I want to reach into my skull
And rip my brain free from its cavity
I do not want it to control me
I have no power over these obsessions
Despite the cocktail of medications I am prescribed
Despite the therapy
The conditioning
I can always pull the steering wheel
These intrusive thoughts will always infect me
They spread from my head to the rest of my body like a disease
I am sick

I pull back into the parking lot
wrote this at a writer's retreat a while ago c:
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