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Lexi Greenwood May 2017
I am not myself
I am not Lexi Greenwood
I stare into the mirror hoping my brain will connect the dots that reflect on my body
And realise that the person in the mirror is myself

But it's not
I'm trapped in a world where my emotions aren't my own
They drip and drop like the leaky tap that can't be fixed
I can't turn this **** thing on or off

I know the world is real but I can't help but disagree
Everyone acts like robots walking around accepting fate and doing what they do
The monotonous cycle that loops like the broken record of society

And I can't make it stop
I just want to to stop

I'm not myself
I am not lexi greenwood
I am no one
My experience with depersonalisation disorder (a dissociative disorder).  My personal views and struggles
  May 2017 Lexi Greenwood
Renee
I hear the plunking of the rain
as I sit alone
once again
looking through the
big window in English
as it is
pouring the rain.
What even is rain?
Some say God's tears,
others say it's simply science.
Maybe it's the tears of the angels
looking down at the pitiful world.
Maybe it is my feelings poured out
in a way I don't control
helpless and inconsistent
Drip drop, the rain is done,
and I'm still sitting alone,
over and over again.
I wait
Swaying with the long grass
Humming low
Whispering the bear songs
I wait
Palms open to the the evening breeze
Legs tense in suspense
Eyes closed
I wait
................All the time I bent for you
................ All the time I spent changing for you
..................All the moments I kept myself in check for you
I have nothing left to give
Now I wait
I wait
For the Moon
His gentle touch on my soul
I wait
For the Moon
To rise and ask nothing of me but what I am
I wait
For the Moon
In this long dusk into twilight
Breathing in the dark
As I set

(JL)
  May 2017 Lexi Greenwood
seychelles
cos' you shined so bright,
too bright,
and that's what made me blind.
so when you left,
I can't see anyone,
I can't even see you.
thanks to tavvishi, i like this very much
Lexi Greenwood May 2017
I awake with the dripping anxiety of death
It's puppetry crafting my fears with its laced strings
Making me do the dance of regret and guilt
The darkness consumes me as I writhe with the agonising realisation

I am not alone
I am going to die
I see my tombstone
I see my soul starting to fly

But why?


That night when the moonlights silver ribbons danced across the darkest ocean.
His face dripping with the crimson liquid that shows the sign of life
Sirens echoed as red and blue flashed into the night.
It was my fault.
It's always my fault


He died because of me
And now I can't see

I can't sleep
I can't breathe
Save me... please
Save me from this nightmare
When an innocent mistake takes a life, the narrator was struck with guilt and accidental blood on their hands.

One of my favourite poems for the descriptive writing is some of my best for the time
Lexi Greenwood May 2017
Be kind they said
Don't lie they said
Leave them behind they said
But don't comply; or have I misread?

They turned their skulls from the vultures that hurt their prey
As they spit their venomous words like "worthless" and "alone"
Yet they call these names "harmless child's play"
But it is "child's play" when that child is now a gravestone?

You see I was a victim of these words
Those razor sharp words that slice you apart piece by piece
But I had to cry out or sit staring at a wall
So that I could discover a tiny bit of release


As I battled those words day after day
I also battled my thoughts to keep sane
Yet the vultures never deceased
And the teachers attention decreased

But why?

Why didn't the care enough to aid?
They walked on by with no remorse
The did nothing and I was left frayed

Will it ever be the same?
The poem I write aged 10 while at a school where I was viciously bullied for years
Lexi Greenwood May 2017
Cold world goes silent
Where is the love today?
The hands they roam as my skin crawls
Nights and days. Why are they just grey?

I'm lonely. Please help me. Please heal me
Save me from my bed.
I would give me life for this to stop
I look in the mirror at who I should be
As I wipe a tear from my bruised cheek

I'm trapped and can't get out
The prison called my mind
The "what ifs" and "what could have been"
Why Is the world so d*mn blind?
He pushed himself against me
No more. Please no more


These hands, I'm *****. Save me
Please save me
Save me
Save
This is a poem written about the victims of ****** assault and their views during and after.
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