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 Jul 2022
Finn
I'm here

Here

Laying in this

Bed

Unable to get

Up and out

Of it

No

There is nothing wrong

With me

Not physically

But I would

Rather lay here

And cry

Then get up

And face everything

Do you

Understand

Or am I

Just a

Madman?

My chest feels

Heavy

Empty

Hurt

And I have

No idea why

My poems

Don't even seem

Like poems

Just thoughts

Turned to words

Spaced oddly

Oddly enough to

Call it a

Poem

Does any of it

Even matter?

I am

Afraid

But I've been here

Like this

Before

But last time

This hurt

This pain turned

Into numbness

Apathy

And this pain

Means I'm alive

I'm here

I'm fighting

Even if it

Doesn't look it

The pain means I'm alive

The pain means that I can

Mend

Become whole again

So does it make me

A sick person

Or even a

******* if

I say that I

Wake up

Every morning

Looking for this

For this pain

Just to reassure myself that

I am alive

I am human

I'm still trying

I'm still here

That I am no longer numb

And pain

Means progress

So I lay here

Feel this pain

Shed some tears

And force myself

Up

Up and out of this bed

To begin the day

Even if it is

The afternoon already

I get up

Pull on some clothes

And greet the day

Saying

"I haven't given up yet"

And that this

*****

That's weighing me down

Will not get its way

No sir

Not today
 Jul 2022
Finn
Is it insanity
to both despise spirituality
and yet fall into dreams of vastness and Gods?

To have cried
and screamed
and thrown the crucifix from my hands
Only to find myself thrown awake
In the middle of the night
still feeling the thick
sticky
blood on my hands?

To have loved science
and knowledge
and fact
But have a Bible given to me from a loved one
that I keep in a drawer
like it's a shameful secret?

To having always felt uncomfortable at church,
but still feeling my skin tingle
like it's going to catch itself on fire?

To believe that God has abandoned us,
or that he never truly existed,
only to carve lines down my throat
with blunt nails
driven to madness
By a spiraling sky
and incomprehensible nightmares?

Is it a mockery
a sin, even
to have been raised by a saintly woman
and still end up
like this?

Is it cruel
to be raised by her
and have her torn from the world
before I would need her the most
and still have to live
knowing I didn't see her last moments
but instead
having her haunt my dreams
with her death?

It must be divine punishment
For past lives
and Future sins
for Fates' strings
and destiny's grip
or everything I've ever done wrong
and more so everything I've done right
 Jul 2022
Finn
You know most who

Dream as much as I do

Would be marked as

"Delusional"

But I haven't yet

So I suppose that's good
 Jul 2022
Finn
Sometimes
When I drag myself out of my room
Usually around noon
I sit at the table
And look out the big window
And see the ducks, chickens and crows
Watch the cats and squirrels and possums
Sometimes we'll see bunnies or raccoons or a fox
Once there was a doe out there
And two different dogs have gotten away from their owners and into our yard
Sometimes I'll see family members

I always check
If my step fathers car is there
And my mother
Who does not have a driver's license
I will seek her out in the house
She doesn't like to speak
And I don't agree with her ideals
But I look and make sure she's here

I worry that she'll get in the car one day
And drive off
My older brothers said it happened to them
She packed them in the car and left
Without a word
My older brother said to watch out for the signs
And if she ever took us to stall her trip as much as possible
Call him or my older sister
And they'd pick us up and take us home

Somehow, my thoughts always spiral
And I want to blame my brother
For sowing this fear inside of my mind
But I am comforted
By the fact that my mother and I disagree
Because as much as it hurts
I don't believe that if she ever left
That she would take me
 Jul 2022
Finn
I'm better, I tell myself
I don't cut
I've never attempted suicide
I've learnt my symptoms
I've learned how to lessen them
I know what makes me spiral downwards
I can get out of bed in the morning
I know how to work around this mentality

But sometimes I get worried
That maybe I'm fooling myself
I can feel itches under my skin
Where the marks used to be
I thought I'd be happy to see the scars fade

But sometimes I look down and see them in the mind's eye
See the blood
Feel the sick exhilaration as I think to myself
'I finally feel something!'
But I shake my head
And the thoughts are gone
No blood
Faint scars
I'm not gone

— The End —