She ran as fast as her brittle legs would allow
without catching her breath once as she ran miles somehow.
And she reached her favourite bench overlooking the countryside
surrounded by swaying trees and an air of grace as she sat and cried.
There's creatures in her mind that won't allow her to think clearly;
the belief she should go beyond the veil plays on her mind severely.
So she swallows a bag of pills washed down with strong tequila,
and stands upon the bench with her earphones in, dancing like a ballerina.

I was a puppet and you were my master
pulling my strings and controlling my acts, I was set up for disaster.
You moulded my identity and sense of self with your foul abuse,
every day that you'd force yourself upon me was a fight I'd always lose.
You took from me my individuality and my innocence too
and placed despondency in its place with my childhood falling through
but I am not fully broken and you no longer have control over me
and I am rebuilding myself back up and better I will be.

How liberating and freeing it is after months of despair
to be overtaken by your old self once more out of nowhere;
to find your spontaneity and find yourself overcome with valour
to finally get up and battle your demons head on with great strength and ardour.

The shadows of my despondency continuously dart
between the dark crevices of the forest born in my mind
with the river of thought flooding violently, tearing me apart
and drowning me unhurriedly as it sweeps me under, most ill-timed.

Her words are boa constrictors causing detrimental suffering and sometimes even death,
with her victims crying themselves to sleep every night, hyperventilating with every breath.
Her raining punches feeling like a thousand needles piercing their flesh time and time again,
her victims wonder why they get up each morning just to suffer the same pain.
Her poisonous taunts run through their bloodstreams and haunt their minds;
and lead some to scar their bodies and others to perish entirely leaving their family behind.

I feel every emotion too deeply; they're a dagger to my heart,
and I'm too sensitive - it only takes one tiny trigger for me to fall apart.
Sometimes it feels as though I'm not a real being;
convinced reality is a figment of my imagination that I'm seeing.
I started to litter my body with scars from the innocent age of ten,
I haven't stopped although I am nineteen now - things just haven't changed since then.
I made my first attempt at the tender age of just twelve years old,
and to this day another fourteen have occurred; by this inner demon I'm controlled.
A patient in a psychiatric hospital 6 days after my eighteenth birthday,
after swallowing a cocktail of pills and alcohol wanting to die away.

But...

I am someone with raw passion that flows through my veins
and my curiosity and adoration for the world around me remains.
I have mastered the art of living in the moment and doing the things that matter to me;
and I'm full of devotion and determination to be the person I'm destined to be.
I use poetry as an expression of all that I feel and I am made of linguistic creativity,
and I love deeply without reservation everything and everyone around me.

So although I may have borderline personality disorder as a part of me,
I am still a kind-hearted and passionate person who wants to be the best she can be.

You are first and foremost my mother by genes and DNA,
but you're also my friend, my hero and the light in each day.
You're there when I need you, there is no doubt
and you're the one encouraging me to figure things out.
You're there when I'm sad and when I feel that I can't keep going through this mind war,
you're the reason I keep fighting to get better; you're the most inspiring mum I could ask for.
I love you more than words could ever hope to say,
and I promise I won't give up - I will battle this despondency every single day.