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 Aug 2014 Lucy Sky
The Whisper
I need my rest tonight.
But my mind is wide-awake.
Emotional strife in my comfortable life,
Leave me with decisions to make.

But doubt...
Is what forces my eyes open,
And keeps me pinned against my bed.

Fear
Is what makes my fists clench.
Making me repeat what I said.

It's like torture.

A pendulum axe.
Right above my bed.
Trying get inside of my head.

Why is life so difficult?
Is this really meant to be?

*The truth is everything is really up to me.
Everyone knows what a pendulum axe is... right? RIGHT?!
 Aug 2014 Lucy Sky
The Whisper
"No, not again..." I cried to myself,
As I buried my face in the palms of my hands.
As I clenched onto a lock of my hair in each fist,
And slowly but surely loosened my grip.

So many nights in this dark room of mine,
Repeating this ritual from one night to the next.
Sometimes I pace, sometimes I drink,
But most of the time I just sit down and think.

I think to myself...
What is this, a curse?
My punishment for all my sins and misdeeds?
My refusal to believe in a man called, "God"?
For biting the hand from which I did feed?

No.
"It can't be..." I whisper in fear.
"If God does exist, he wouldn't do this to me."
"I wouldn't be cursed with such a terrible plague."

Then the demons awaken.
Just like every other night.
Forcing their way into my room every night.
Forcing their way into my head every night.
Haunting me until the sun shines on my window.

They hold my eyes open.
But I force them shut.
They whisper my thoughts,
And their voices keep me up.
Silent and still like a dark shallow pond,
But sleep refuses to rescue me.

And when that sun shines,
It's a sight I do dread.
A sight that reminds me of these mornings in bed,
When the battle is over and the demons retreat,
Into my head as I lay in defeat.

Now that it's over, I continue my day.
Keeping my curse and my demons at bay.
But even then, I dread every night,
When my demons return with a vengeance to fight.
Another poem about my sleeping disorder.
 Aug 2014 Lucy Sky
The Whisper
I pinch my brow, and rub my eyes.
I procure a heavy sigh.
I feel regret, a dear old friend,
As I look up at the sky.

I retreat to my mind, I shut my eyes.
I think of what to say.
Hate comes along, whistling his song,
"How would you rather feel today?"

I searched for love, I found someone.
I thought she was a dream.
Instead I found myself in hell.
People aren't always what they seem.

I was blinded by "love", I am in love.
I love her and she loves me.
But so many questions come to my mind.
"Are we truly meant to be?"

I don't know, I don't know, I really don't know...
There's so much pain in my heart.
The things that we do and the things that we say,
Are tearing us apart.

I unclench my fists, I open my eyes.
I let out a heavier sigh.
Rubbing my eyes, I wipe these tears
As I look up at the sky.
In this poem, I used a lot of imagery to try and paint pictures and piece together what it's like when we all stare at something, eyes wide open (for whatever reason) and we just become unaware of ourselves whilst in deep thought. We just focus so deeply on what we're thinking about, and we get so lost, that as soon as we open our eyes, we don't even realize how little or how much time has passed. The shortness of this poem is supposed to mimicking how very little thinking can be a lot to take in at once.
 Aug 2014 Lucy Sky
The Whisper
Sometimes it's best to just let the words flow,
Out of your mind and from your soul.
Human communication has evolved in a way,
Millennium, after millennium, into what it is today.
Does it not seem odd in strange and quirky way,
That even us people sometimes don't know what to say?
We speak.
We listen.
We know.
We learn.
Yet often, we are left speechless without a word in mind.
Like when you witness a fight.
Or watch someone hit a homerun.
You see your dad cry.
Trying something you love for the first time.
A loved one dies.
Hearing an unbelievable secret.
Having *** for the first time.
Falling in love.
Getting your heart broken.


It's one thing to know what to say.
It's another to know *how you feel.
Decided to try a freestyle form of writing for shirts and giggles. Just wrote down whatever came to mind first.
 Aug 2014 Lucy Sky
The Whisper
I'm knocking.
Please answer the door.
Let me in, let me in.
I mean you no harm.

Just let me know you.
Let me see you.
I promise you, I promise,
That this is really me.

I hope that one day,
You'll notice the heart,
On my sleeve, that I wear,
Because of the courage you give me.

You're there for me,
So I know you care.
I know you want me around.
So show me the real you.

What could you possibly say,
That is so **** shocking,
That it will scare me away?
Don't be ashamed.

I'm here for you.

If you are afraid,
To let me inside,
Your small room of secrets,
I have news for you.

I'm scared just like you.

I'm scared of you.
I'm scared that you'll ignore me,
When I'm telling the truth.
I've got nothing to hide.

Let me get to know you.
Let me be there for you.
Are you scared of my thoughts?
Then let me show you.

I hope that one day...

*I'll be enough for you.
 Aug 2014 Lucy Sky
The Whisper
Writing this poem
Is as difficult as
Translating my thoughts into accurate words.
Even though I'm not good,
I admit that I try.

I can't say the same about you.

We talk about
The same
Things
Every
*******
Day.

You don't trust me enough to just let me in.

"Friend"

If that is what you are.
Or is that just a title I have,
So that you don't feel so alone?


You are a puzzle.
Yes.
You.

This stupid little game is making me sick.

Every **** day
I find out
I'm missing another piece
Of the bigger picture.
Of you.

I can barely even put the pieces together.

And I'm just wondering if I should leave you

**Unfinished.
 Aug 2014 Lucy Sky
The Whisper
I
 Aug 2014 Lucy Sky
The Whisper
I
I
I am.
Human.
Intelligent.
Selfish,
Yet selfless.
Contradictory.
I am.

I
I fear.
Love.
Sacrifice.
Death.
But I,
I believe.
In love,
sacrifice,
and death.

I
I want.
I lust.
I crave.
I have.
I need.
I feel...

I am.

I.
A poem that focuses on the individuality. A generalization of the way we use, "I" and how I can use it to define what it means to be human, in my perspective.
 Aug 2014 Lucy Sky
The Whisper
All the time,
I'm suffering.

Living is slowly suffocating.

I'm afraid to die.
I don't want to die.

But waiting for death seems to be the only way,
I can keep myself from getting pulled under.

Death lingers in the back of my mind,
Keeping me afloat.
Keeping me alive.

Because when I die, I can only expect one thing.

*The Truth.
 Aug 2014 Lucy Sky
The Whisper
Please write with your hearts,

And your complicated minds.

Our words bring wonder.
I tip my hat to all my fellow writers. I love reading your work.
 Aug 2014 Lucy Sky
The Whisper
Paranoia.
Explain it to me.
Help me understand the fear that lies within me.
Why I suddenly feel that my candle of life,
Is quickly burning away at both ends of the stick.

The fear, the fear.
It continues to grow.
From the seeds of paranoia that I personally sow.
Is it all in my head, or is the danger really there?
None the less, the uncertainty is what I cannot bear.

Every cigarette I've had.
Every time my throat aches.
There is no medication for regrets and mistakes.
Ignoring the warnings does not make them untrue.
Being ignorant can only lead to the downfall of you.

Diabetes or Cancer?
Malignant or Benign?
Everyone tells me that I'm, *probably fine
.
But they don't understand that the battle inside,
Is convincing myself that it's all in my head.

It's nothing. It's nothing.
Miguel, you're okay.
These are the mantras that I repeat every day.
To myself in my head, or out loud when alone.
Hoping that one day my health will atone.
Hypochondria. I don't know why, but suddenly I've been giving a huge crap about my health. To the point where it actually keeps me up at night. I just had to let out my frustrations somehow. So here's a window into the anxiety that I feel.
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