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She wears a mask of steel around her face,
That one can never break,
She stashes her feelings behind her smile,
But to discover them would be worthwhile,
She seems fine on the outside,
While she pushes her emotions aside
Onto the platter of feelings that drowns
Beside the superficial wearing crown,
When she just wants to scream
This isn’t the real me

This mask developed over time
From the harsh words she was forced to mime,
The feelings that she had within,
Came about her thick buckskin
No longer can the feelings break through
Bittersweet tears swept away as her spirit bid adieu

- a.g.
walking around i seek
the first time where i feel truly me.
out from the shadows, at last emerging
the suns sweet rays surging
with the energy i feel,
and begin to feel real.

- a.g.
a short one
Are you okay?
Are you alright, are you fine, are you good?
Are you adequate, are you decent?
Are you emotionally stable, sleeping without crying, smiling because you want to?
Are you breathing without questioning, are you waking up without trying, are you eating without throwing up?
Are you reading this poem right now and thinking no?
Are you thinking for the first time, will I ever be okay?

You will be okay.
You will be alright, you will be fine, you will be good.
You will be adequate, you will be decent.
You will be emotionally stable, you will sleep without crying, and smile for the happiness blooming inside of you.
You will breathe without questioning, you will wake up to a new day, you will eat easily
You
are going to be okay.
So please smile sunshine
It’s a fine new day
To be okay :)

- a.g.
just a reminder that everything gets better folks. please, please hang in there. i believe in each and one of y'all.

UPDATE: thank you so so so much for 51k. the overwhelming amount of comments and messages and loves make me feel so happy to spread this poem. thank you.
 Apr 2018 Ash Young
adriana
It just rained
Bullets
Puddles in the streets
Blood
Water falls down
Tears
Sometimes I think of killing myself
How the end would be so nice
How the darkness would swallow me up
And how the numbness would suffice
My need

For all the voices of the feelings
That constantly keep me reeling
To softly slow to a hush
As my brain starts tur-tur-turning into mush

How wonderful it would be
To have that powerful silence
Not even grasshoppers would bother
To wake me

My cells would stop dividing
My brain would stop the lying
Myself would stop denying
What I truly want

But but but
This is just a reckless fantasy
A way to elude one’s own reality

Because as I sit here on the floor
Tears drip drip dropping
I realize there’s those who care for me more
Cherish me more
Love me more
Than I love my own self

The crickets chirp
I put the pills down
Love fades
g  r  a  d   u   a    l     l    y,
so does the pain eventually,

may
        be
            by
                 the
                       time
                               we
                                     die.....
Met an old friend turned foe today....
realised that still the pain exists
but fading gradually....
It was an inconvenient interaction
but within minutes I got back to normal unlike earlier ...
 Apr 2018 Ash Young
Her
they call it PTSD
but i call it
my own personal hell

playing
over
and
over
Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t just been the backseat of your car,
Intoxicated. My first drunk hook up. My first. Period.
I picture myself being champagne on Valentine’s Day.
I picture myself being you, nervous in the car, holding Starbucks
because you know I love coffee. Sometimes, I picture myself as her,
calling you a stalker and ignoring your calls,
but then I see myself. I call you beautiful,
turn you into poetry, laugh at your bad jokes,
I see myself as I become your drunk Wednesday night
when you’re sad. I see myself as I say no,
I become a “this is not a good idea”
and you a “we’ll deal with the consequences in the morning.”
We laugh because this hurts too much.
You take her out for dinner and I burrow money
for Plan B because you forgot you don’t like condoms
and clearly have no idea how children are made.
I have already named him. He has your curls and
my anxiety. He is smart. Except, I never wanted kids and
you would be a great father. Instead, you tell her
the beach reminds you of her and I cry in a McDonald’s
bathroom with my friend as relief floods through me that
the test comes negative. I stop talking to you,
move forward, meet someone new and before long
see myself becoming you. Because isn’t that the cycle?
Bad men turn good women into bad women who turn
good men into bad men. I’ll set him free so he can hurt
someone like me, and I drink red wine as I read her
poems about him and me.
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