I have no grasp on my feelings anymore
I lost track of them crying on my bed room floor

Ive lost all sanity
All grip on reality

Standing against a tall wall
Knees weak from the journey and about to fall

I stare blankly at the wall with tears at the end of my eyelids
I cry out a scream of helplessness to anyone who would hear
But as always I am left alone to quiver in fear

With my fist tightened I throw it to the wall
A sharp sting grows within my fist and tears begin to fall

I fall to my knees and hold my wrist
With tears in my eyes I shout to the heavens and raise my ****** fist

The heavens shout back with a thunderous roar
And a rod of lighting strikes the soil beside me
At that moment a new feeling was born inside of me

I pull myself up and throw my fists to the wall
Over and over I punish my fists
And as tears fall down my eyelids

I begin to see the wall weakening to my fists
I throw another one and blood begins to pour to the floor
And I begin to realise I am at war

I look down to my ****** fists
I roll them up into a ball for one last try
And try hold the tears in as I cry

I set myself up and throw my fist to the wall
With the impact, the shock of my hands shattering sends me to the ground
And I lay there with no sound

I punch the devil in the face and come back to life to see...

The wall has been broken and I have been set free.

-T

Poetry
to me
is taking
my pain
and making
it sing.

this poem
has a title
so that all who read it
know
that this poem has a meaning

because without something to reference
a name
or a title
things are left behind

just like me
in all the years
i tried to remain
untitled

rather

anonymous

untitled people
like me
are given no
second glances
no
first chances
no
social advances

nothing

left behind
like a poem
without
a name

I have seen your smile hundreds of times,
Somehow I always know how to make you laugh.
You have seen my smile also,
But have you seen the real me?

The one whose eyes are sunken in her head
her brain is foggy,
and her skin is old and brittle.

The one that is in a hole that she has climbed many times,
Only to slip back in again.

You think you know her,
but you don't.
And you probably never will.

But if you do get to know her,
be gentle.
her heart is fragile,
and she cannot think straight.

If you get to know her,
Hold on tight,
So you she doesn't slip away.

Not even the ever changing colors of autumn can compare to your eyes.
Even when every plant dies, your eyes still glisten as if they were a raindrop rolling off a leaf in the spring.

t.h.