I don't believe in God
I'm sorry
I'm not actually apologising
for the fact it's just what I've been conditioned
to say by society

Sorry?

Don't get me wrong
I was shackled as a child
to Sunday school after Chuch
and my informative
young woman years were left dead
by Girls Brigade
didn't make me less wild

Mother was Presbyterian
Father was Methodist
(You don't think I was messed up by this?)
Christened as Chuch of England
Raised as a Baptist
I think, all of the above
fall under 'Christianity'
but I'm not sure of this

So many secular emotions
under one umbrella
I'd bet, someone's gonna get wet

Then there is Islam and Hinduism
Sikhism and Judeaism
and spiritual beliefs like
Bhuddism and Druidism

How do all those different Gods compete
for our favour? To get us to lay down
as followers, to be the mat for their precious feet?
It would have to be a pretty mean feat!
I imagine them as Gladiators
fighting for the right for the masses to cheer
Winner takes all but, Losers get the non believers

What do you think the Ancient Gods
think of their petty squabbling?
The Eygyptians, the Greeks?
who simply stated humans
were to worship them religiously
and it was done, because they can
They seemed more fierce to me
sitting on Mt Olympus and coming down
occasionally, at least they had a face
What's been touted today to the human race?

I don't know enough about Religion
to make choice or want to learn
I married a Roman Catholic
that opened a whole new can  of worms
An Irish Roman Catholic
Yeah, I see you nodding your heads
Suicidal, I think is the term

So I decided my children would not
be burdened by my religious ineptitude
They can choose their own beliefs
for I surely won't intrude
on their individual right to make
a decision based on their own feelings
I know I'm probably wrong, I just want
them to believe in something
Anything that makes their day better,
that helps them sleep at night
I won't choose their religion for them
I don't think that's right

I'm anorexic.
I'm suicidal.
I'm losing control of my temper.
Because of you.

You call me names way to often.
Like sumo and disgusting pig.
That now I'm starting to believe.
I hardly eat and losing to much weight.

You treat me like ****.
You laugh at my tears.
That now suicide thoughts dominate my mind.
Many times I've come close to giving in and letting go.
Because of you.

I've always had a temper.
Your constant fights have pushed me over the edge.
That now I'm a danger to my friends.
My hands hurts from punching the wall in fury.
Because of you.

Because of you.
I'm not the same.
Because of you.
Now all I am
Is a shell of the person I once was.

Fighting death daily.
My head is duelling with my pen.
I'm not suicidal.
But given the option.
Of meds or pen.
My pen will outright win.
(C) LIVVI MMCV

My dad used to tell a story
   about the monster underneath
   the one that starts the mayhem
   the one that wakes at 3am

My dad have fought it before
    every sting that it had unleashed
    words and actions he wished he said
    reminded the monster under the bed

My dad told me "Be Strong"
     as the monster shifts its prey
     waits shamefully for the end of the day
     suicidal thoughts at 3am

My dad tried to save me
      words and actions are its claws
      every **** night i wished it'd paused
     but the monsters loved my prose

My dad wish it wasn't me
      he wish he could just take away the pain
      you're the monster I kissed back in the rain
      the memory that wakes at 3 am.

"You don't look like you write poetry.."
Well, why not?
Is it because I am an athlete?
Is it because you misinterpret my personality?
Is it so hard to believe,
I can put my thoughts down
In a way I feel better?
Tell me,
Tell me please.
What does a poet look like?
Do all of them look the same?
Act the same?
Messy hair and beanies.
Scarves and hot tea.
Hipsters.
Suicidal or lovestruck.
Black or white.
The "artsy" types.
Typical stereotypical ideas of poets.
But we are not the same.
We are all different,
Except for one thing,
We all understand each other.
So please never judge me again,
Just because you don't understand
Our world.

My thoughts became louder.
I can't even hear myself talk.
I must be crazy, insane.
The people around, annoy me.
It kills me to know that I'm still alive.
There's this ball of flames
Ready to explode.
Thoughts of suicidal
I'm tired of feeling this pain.
I'm so hurt.
I am going to end this pain someday.
Unloved,.
Unaccepted back into everyone's lives.
I hate people.
They ruined who I was.
I push people away.
Don't want them to see me.
I feel ashamed.
Guilt
Sorrow.
Alone
Lost
I'm on the verge.

I'm so, so very tired.

The past two years of the fluctuating, of changing, of tears, of sorrow, of mania, of certifiable madness have drained me. Gods only know how awful I will feel in the years to come, if I feel drained right now. How can I live a lifetime like this?

My fingers are heavy on the keyboard, slamming down every word, like trying to made an imprint of myself on this laptop, so I may live forever somewhere, particularly since it is so likely for me to die.

I hate to admit that. I hate it. I'm not suicidal right now, but in these moments I realize I may be the cause of my own destruction. Correction, it is highly likely I will be. And I am so very tired of fearing everything, including myself.

Tired of all the eyes watching me, and all all the hours wasted crying, and...

I'm trying to find something to pride myself in, and the only thing I can be proud of is the fact I have not pined profusely over a boy in weeks. I have pined, that is true, its hard for one like myself not to fantasize and latch onto someone. But I have not felt the heavy weight in my chest of being so in love that it hurts.

All my poems have been about me. Kind of self-centered, huh? But I guess its an improvement, trying to find myself over trying to find myself in others. Over losing my mind over some person.

I'm still tired, though. I'm surprised I managed to write this much, for my hands feel too heavy to move much.

Maybe I'll curl up on the couch and pray the emptiness goes away and maybe life will stop allowing me to feel terrible things.

Just maybe.