Panic, worry, darkness closing in around me
These are some of the words that can be used to describe my anxiety
But nothing I can say could speak of its entirety
As I cry internally thinking I’ve lost my sanity

Doctors, counsellors, saying there’s something wrong with me
My parents telling me to calm down and stop being so dramatic
But how can I calm down when the world around me
Is spinning out of control and I can barely see?

Breathe. You will get through this

You will get through the sleepless nights
All the internal fights
And the days that seem right
When the world hits you with all its might

Breathe. You will get through this

I know you think I’m overreacting about the silliest little things
But to me, those silly little things seem like the doom this world could bring.
Can’t you see, a spilled glass of milk to you can seem like an earthquake to me

I know it might be hard to understand my anxiety
But I hope today I have given you some clarity

So the next time someone is scared and feels like they can’t breathe,
Shaking and crying, unable to see,
Don’t tell them they’re overreacting; don’t call them crazy
Help them realize there is more to life than this misery
And no matter the doubt inside, they will always be who they are meant to be

Breathe. You will get through this

Because I know I am more than my anxiety,
And one day I hope to be free of it entirely
But until then, I will tell myself quietly
I am stronger than this. I am stronger than my anxiety.

Life is tough, that’s what they say
But they don’t know what it’s like everyday
To wake up in the morning and go to school
Just so people can test you and prove you’re a fool

The teacher says you obviously didn’t try
But they don’t know you go to your room and you cry
You did put in the effort, you did your part
They just don’t understand that you’re not that smart

Then comes the pressure from mum and dad
Who are so clearly disappointed that your grades are bad
You are punished and picked on for the rest of the year
Because you finally gave up on your future career

That was once so close, but is now so distant
However, your parents and teachers are still so insistent
It’s hard enough getting up and going to class
Without the pressure and expectation that you have to pass

The worst part, however, is not that you’re a disappointment
It’s the permanent, never ending embarrassment
Of always failing and coming last
Of never being good enough, your confidence is dropping fast

Everyone else seems to be doing just fine
Their parents are all proud, unlike mine
Honestly, I can’t think if a worse place than this
When in reality it’s made out as someplace that we should miss

I won’t miss it, I’ll be glad to leave
Four years wasted because failure is all I ever received
I know it’s my fault and I’m the one to blame
I gave up so early because I was ashamed

To my family, I’m a failure, and I’m a failure to myself
Everyone’s expectations only damaged my mental health
If I ever have kids, I will always try
To make sure the fear of failure of never the reason they cry

People need to realize that school’s no longer fun or good
Because some of us don’t fit in, although we wish we could

It’s not an addiction;
really, it’s not.
But that mirror,
it’s the source of my confliction.

Not long ago,
I could look in that mirror
and see nothing wrong at all,
but now, I’ve got nothing to show.

The pressure to always be perfect,
it tears away at my body.
At first, it looked like nothing,
but it had side effects.

I wanted to be one of them,
one of those girls that they all envied.
But the price to pay was my body,
not a small diamond gem.

It was never enough,
No matter what I did.
Those skipped meals,
Turned my image rough.

I stare and ask myself,
will it ever be worth it?
My image in the mirror,
Kept begging for me to quit.

It became a nightly thing,
Standing on that scale.
And I was always pleased to see,
That the pounds kept on dropping.

My hair had started to thin,
My bones began to show.
Everything was different.
The desire was starting to win.

The pain I was putting myself through,
the constant suffering,
everything was just a blur,
but nobody ever knew.

I don’t starve anymore.
But I could if I tried,
It was a part of my life,
Now it’s just a closed door.

It’s not an addiction,
Really, it’s not.
But that mirror,
It’s the source of my affliction.

Purple veins strain against the skin.
Pale, translucent, paper thin.
Skinny fingers clawed in monstrous shapes,
Brown spots from years she could never erase.

Now wrinkled and weak, fragile and sore,
So many things she couldn’t do any more.
Some days she feels she’s been betrayed,
By the cruelty of her advancing age.

She rubs her hands to ease the ache,
And recalls the life they helped her make.
She looks at them and feels the loss,
Living a life bares a high cost.

These hands that held her children near,
That gently dried their salty tears.
Hands that held her husband tight.
The hands that never gave up the fight.

Miraculous hands that protected and soothed.
Hands that conveyed her every mood.
Hands so strong they could carry the weight,
That would never give up and never forsake.

The hands that took little but always gave,
Hands that applauded every achievement made.
Those soft, sweet hands that gently cared,
For those sick or lost in dark despair.

Hands that fussed and fumbled that day
Her husband gave their daughter away.
Those hands holding tight, as he slowly died,
Caressing his brow as she stood by his side.

Hands that rocked her grandson to sleep,
That gladly took over when others grew weak.
Hands that once held everyone she loved,
And praying for strength to our God above.

Hands that were always so willing to give,
Hands that reveal a life fully lived.
Small, feeble hands, now empty and cold,
These hands that each day will keep growing old.

These hands she now tends to hide away,
These hands that at times make her feel ashamed.
Grotesque and useless in her eyes,
They rest in her lap as she quietly cries.

But I see the hands of a hero so true,
A woman that survived what this life put her through.
A woman whose heart still shimmers like gold,
With the hands of a warrior that made her mark on this world.

Words words
Btch and whre
The girl runs away
She slams the door
She takes a knife
And cuts her skin
Remembering how f*cked up her life has been
She leans to the toilet
Throws up to be thin
At school all she has is a grin
She cuts cuts cuts some more
Screaming in pain, blood on the floor
People call her emo and laugh at her face
But they haven’t tried to be in her place
Her dad, just died, her mum had depression
Her brother has to go through a therapy session
Why can’t people see? That grin is a lie
Everything’s done for her, her life’s slowly fading by
Blood’s dripping on the floor, she’s screaming in pain
She can’t eat because that’s more weight to gain
She wishes to be perfect she says it’s not fair
She says she hears people always talking about her hair
She cuts it all off, her soul has been broken
But she never told anyone, her words were never spoken
She takes the rope, hangs herself in the dark
She no longer has a beating heart
Her friend fall to the ground
When they hear the words “She’s dead”
Her brother cries as he sleeps in her bed
She is gone
She is done
Just because of people making fun
She’s buried on a Saturday
People start crying

So before judging someone on their weight or their clothes
Their laugh, their talk, their hair or their nose
Just take a moment to realize and see
Everyone is not always what they seem to be.

Rain, rain go away,
Because of you, the pain will stay,
Slit my throat, cut out my heart,
Leave me here, tear it apart,

Poison tears stream down my face,
My heart beats at a steady pace
As I try to stand again;
Alone and standing in the rain,

I don’t need you anymore-
Is what I think while tears pour.
I hate you like I hate my life;
But love is what cuts like a knife.

Love is death and death is you;
Its pain stains like a black tattoo.
Those memories come back again
And bind me in the ropes of pain.

Crimson blood streams down my head
like a long, silk ribbon, tied by a thread,
to a platinum bullet, a hole in my skull…
…now just a memory that’s faded and dull.