Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Shea Oct 8
If this is health,
what the **** is sickness?
I'm tired of being the one
Who has to be the one
To give a ****
What happens when
I want to give up?
What happens then when
I have step up
and be the one to fix the problem
when the problem is me
me, I, myself
I caused this wreck
this body I'm in
has hurt more people than
to begin with
to rid of my problems
I must change
but changing means
accepting I'm the problem
and what if
I know I am
and knowing I'm a problem
makes me want to rid of who I am
for good
Shea Sep 15
A questionable cause,
conformed in my mind
Poisoned solutions
And pollution behind my eyes
Behind those eyes
I used to know
What I was like

A scratch to see what's underneath
A familiar smell
Of bleak recollections

Wish life repeated level headed

The devil's armada
Subliminal poison
Shea Sep 15
Familiar sights,
I'm covered in bites
and the ants crawl
and the night falls.
Spring comes,
lights aspire
King's set fire
October, the time of falling
Time has no meaning, it is tainted
and our lives are painted.
Wrote this in 2016. One of my favorites/most memorable.
Shea Jul 31
A mirror the size of the sky reveals
That I need to change
Though i was made in the image of my God
I was also made in the image of dirt
And molded by the red clay beneath it
And it stained all my clothes
And It stained in the curves of my brain
And through my fingertips
They bleed red
Cause I am *****
I could pray away the red
But it appears on my knees as I kneel
And I know what is real
But i can't hear the voice
And giving every inch of me
Of something I can't see
Is harder than giving every inch of me
To something that's bad for me
Shea Jul 24
I have this feeling that I wanna go home,
But I'm in my room
I have this feeling that I am not where I am supposed to be
But this is where I'm told to be
Shea Jul 24
True art comes from the pigsty of your mind
Shea May 3
I woke up with a craving, but staying inside
Will save me from the world.
My tired eyes itch like a sweater,
I give up in a curl, and enjoy the colder weather.
Work the nerve to get up, it’s brave.
In my cave, I’d rather stay.
My feet touch the ground,
My ears are delighted by the sound
Of those ready to greet me, it’s me.
Staring steady in the mirror,
Observing the inches that have tightly stretched
Into a larger face.
I’ve shed this skin twice, the third will be the charm!
Wash my hands, cook, wash my hands, clean, wash my hands
Run them through my hair, wash, do, wash, fix, wash, wash, stop.
And the days roll by like numbers.
Next page