You ever hug the wall
At a high school homecoming?
Wishing those moths in your stomach,
Would just fucking die already.

You wore your brand new
Concrete shoes.
Slipped them on
To dance with your demons,
In a sea of your peers.

The fruit punch tastes like defeat,
The ballads from the 80’s are too damn loud.

Yet your peers are so cheery,
You, tired and weary.
Looking forward to going home,
And drink yourself to sleep.

Dealing with my first adolescent experiences with anxiety and depression

To betray, to flee!
A monster of one’s
Own creation.

Mangled in a
Maelstrom of selfishness.
Stemming from self pity.

This chimera
Born not of intention,
But of convenience.

Oh! we scorn those
Whom seem self seeking.
Do do we not see ourselves, as king?

A shakespearian-esque poem on the contradictions of human nature
Andrew Kelly Jul 10

Tie your troubles
To helium balloons
And let that shit go

Andrew Kelly Jul 6

Whether it was learning long division,
Or naming all fifty states.
Nothing seemed to matter.
It all seemed so trivial.

The phantom that haunted me
Never left,
Not even in elementary.
I could not cope, nor concentrate.

Cafeteria feasts
Made of concentrate.
Paired with my inner confusion,
I tended to lose my lunch.

I tried to hold
Myself to a means
Of normalcy.
It wound up as vomit on my shoes.

Dealing with grief as a young child
Andrew Kelly Jul 3

The tension
The tugging
I quarrel with
Myself again.

Perturbed neurotransmitters buzz about
My subarachnoid space,
Leaving a void where
My voice of reason once was.

What was once my cortex,
Is now a coliseum.
Gladiators donned in the Armor of God
Clash with abhorrent avatars of psychedelic malevolence.

This battle ending,
In the stalest of stalemates.
Leaving myself as the only casualty,
The lone survivor.

Parts of me, now gone forever more
I mourn the corporals of my conscience
By carrying on with my day,
As I drag my feet into the horizon.

Andrew Kelly May 23

I subject myself,
My will
Unto your caring hands.

My spinal cord
Is simply a
Pedestal for your patella.

Let the grains of sand
Slip between your fingers,
My time runs on your own accord.

How can I be of assistance,
All I want is to be yours.

love, crush, freestyle, suffering, longing, imagery
Andrew Kelly Apr 3

I ponder what my parents told me,
“The light in your eyes is back.”
Not because I am happy,
(or sober…)

Its because I stare at the dimly lit skyline
In the City of Brotherly Love,
In a melancholy manner.

While I could make some cliché allegory
Of a cigarette being another source of faint luminescence.

But I am a college student,
A speck of a presence drowning in dimwits,
With such bright futures ahead!
(Along with a large sum of debt.)

So while I sit and stare
At the city lights,
Soaking in suicidal thoughts at the SEPTA station.

Remember the light in my eyes
Is a reflection of those city lights.
Dimly lit,
Not aflame.
I have no one but myself to blame.

Telling the tale of what it was like to experience my depression at its worst alone in the city of Philadelphia. I never thought I was able to beat it until I did.
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