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I like to hide out in my mind
when the world is too much to handle.

It's safe in here.
Dark and serene.
No one to hurt me,
Nothing to fear.

Sometimes, though,
I’m hidden for too long.
I get too comfortable in here.
Too comfortable.

Ready or not, here I come!

If no one comes out to find me,
Seek for me,
Then I won’t be hiding.

I’ll be lost.
Don’t know how I feel about this one
Blame me for my pain
Chastise me for my tears
Reprimand me for feeling
and for saying what you don’t want to hear.

I’m sorry that I hurt so much
Hurt so much that it leaks through my tear-ducts,
Bleeds through my scars,
and reaches you—
You.

You make it all about you.
Because how could I be so selfish.
How could I dare hurt you
By hurting myself.

Don’t you think I could’ve used a shoulder to cry on?
Hands to soothe?
Arms to sink into?
Because I think do.

All I sunk into was myself,
I repressed all you saw was wrong with me
Deep deep within me.
Deep deep until I was no longer me
Or I.
Deep deep until I no longer was.

Lost lost
Lost in myself,
Losing myself.
I’m losing
myself.
And you’re losing me too.
God, how could I do this to you.

I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry for hurting.
Thinking about how my parents yell at me or tell me off when I cry.
How I was yelled at when my parents found out abt my sh and su-c-dal ideation/attempts.
I just wanted a hug, to be honest.
My poetry is the result of an influx of thoughts.

My head can't hold them all,
So they spill out onto paper and soak and stain,
Leaving these tangled strings of words.

I try to arrange them to something comprehensive
But it's mostly an indecipherable nonsense.
I suppose thats what makes it poetry.

At least, it makes the mess in my brain
Just a bit more tangible.
As if it was just feeling "sad".
No.

Its a beast of shadows and darkness that consumes you from the inside.
Its being hollow, devoid of self and everything human.
It's a violent ocean who's waves crashes against your ribs.
It's a pain that infects your core and spreads to the very tips of your fingers.
It's the heaviest nothingness.

It hurt hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts
so ******* much.

I just want it to stop.
"I really don't understand whats wrong with you. You have a loving family and food to eat, and you didn't go through anything traumatic. You have no reason to be like this. It's like you want to be like this."
...
"We didn't even want to send you to therapy. We could've dealt with this ourselves. If you slip up once they'll take you away from us and put you straight into a hospital. Those people don't care about you, your friends don't care about you. Only your father and I do."
...
"Everyone else is happy and living their lives. You're the only one who is all sad. And nobody cares, they're going to just keep living regardless. Even I have to, so you're not going to stop me by being sad like this."
As if being depressed = feeling "sad"
They don't understand how I can't control my need to
Pull
Scratch
Tap
Bite
Pinch
Rock
Pick
&
Fidget
Constantly
Because
I just need to,
To not implode.
Like, nothing thats happening to you is actually happening to you.
Like you're just watching other people's lives play out in a book or a movie.
Like you're the side character.
Like nothing actually matters and you're just doing it for the sake of the plot.

Like nothing is real.

Like you're playing from the third person, just above the character.

Like you're not real.

Like every day is just a repeat of the last.
Like you're the only real one
Like everyone else are just actors and someday someones going to come from behind the curtain and say
HA PRANKED.

Like the sunsets are too beautiful to be real.
Like the squirrels crossing the street stare for too long for this to be real.
Like all that is meaningless is too important for this to be real.
Like all the sounds are too artificial to be real.

Like nothing is real.
Like nothing is real.

Like how when you wave your hand in front of your eyes and

Its not real.

Like when you pinch your skin hard hard hard until you bleed and maybe it hurts it doesn't matter and it doesn't really because this body is not yours, just a vessel you were forced into because

You're not real.

Like how you're not even sure who you are anymore, because you're nothing but fragments of broken things, nothing things, nothing,

You're not real.

You're not here,
You're not in here,
You were never meant to be here,
You're nothing.

You're not real.
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