I am BPD.
I am the demon that possesses your mind,
I am the ghost of all you want to leave behind.
I am the monster that will make you unstable,
The voice in your head making you suicidal.
I am your heart making your emotions intense,
I am your mind, muddled and making no sense.
I am your brain making you neurotic,
With the perfect balance of a handful of psychotic.
I am your self-esteem making you feel worthless,
I will make sure you feel that you have no purpose.
I am your impulsiveness making you act reckless;
Your need to harm yourself is becoming endless.
I am your soul feeling neglected,
You feel it very deeply because you need to be protected.
I am your extreme paranoia,
Making you live in a shell, I’m a merciless destroyer.
I am your fear of rejection, you will outburst at the slightest disaffection.
So, I am BPD and I will ruin your life,
I will cover you in scars made by the blade of a knife.

In search of freedom.
I jumped
Only to become an anchor,
Opening my mouth only leads to drowning

I play along,
My notes fitting almost perfectly,
Half a breath out of time, but ringing true,
I could turn off the recording,
Play it all myself,
And no difference would be heard,
But for my fingers slipping,
And playing unintentional grace notes,
Styled out but there,
And I know they're there,
But perhaps they should stay.

Poetry should be like boxing,
Short, swift, and powerful.
To the point and presented so that you never see it coming.
A hook, a jab, a firm right cross.
Hard hitting and unforgiving,
Never what you are expecting.
Watch it on your cable boxes,
Cheer and scream till you're obnoxious,
Because poetry should be like boxing.

Many are the memories
but too few are the memories
that I can still feel.