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 Dec 2017
A sudden immersion in the unknown,
the bitter taste of confusion,
in the flavor of doom.
Panic Attacks.
 Dec 2016
Eric Martin
Poems and pain
For the mentally insane
Fires started
For the broken heated

Minds reformed
To the deformed
Problems immense
Released in violence

For the institution
No evolution
Just hate

With the pollution
Bring desolation
Never create

Many maggots roam
Together alone
Separate piles fed
Together blood shed

Always avenge
After anothers revenge
A never ending schism
To bring the cataclysm
 Dec 2016
Injected with doses of isolation
Solitude is where I sojourn
On the edge of the cliff Melancholy
Is where my Destruction was born
Paranoia drowning through my lungs
Hatred drawn across blood-red skies
Agony rained down and into my soul
Being beaten I had found my Demise
So down the road of Misery Lane
Im dragging my feet one-by-one
The land of Peace has been burned down
Depression became the new sun
 Dec 2016
Eric Martin
I look in the mirror
I hate what I see
I want to be any body
as long as it isn't me

I dream every night
of spreading wings and taking flight
or jumping from some where high
and the rush until I die

My body has become a shell
To pay for every sin
it's become my own little hell
it hardens to trap me in

I hope I am a cocoon
I hope that very soon
I'll open up to new eyes
and fly into the skies
 Dec 2016
Amethyst Fyre
You've got to learn to love your part in life

Like the alto, always background to the soprano
must to come to love the harmony
There's a base to every pyramid
And maybe it's more fun to hit the high notes,
but in the end, the support is what matters most

Like Atlas and the sky
You can't just give up and
let the clouds crash into Earth below

even when the sky is crushing you
even when its weight is digging you into the ground

You have to learn to love your prisons
dying flesh, a cage for your mind
that box they've drawn around you in thick black marker lines
Not to be crossed out

I'm not saying don't try to break through
Coffins are suffocating, what wouldn't you do for one more gasp of air?

I'm just begging you to be careful
where you step, you don't have a choice other than to be smart with this

You can take an eraser to those lines until your fingers bleed,
but erasers won't do anything to marker
You move even an inch and the whole pyramid might come tumbling down
Even Atlas had to get someone to take his place before he could escape

You'll set off alarms and traps before you make it very far
The police will escort you back where you belong
So while you're planning your next attempt to get beyond the walls
you might as well decorate them
and buy a couch, a bed, a stove, make yourself at home

It's a backup plan for if you never make it out
an over the counter pain reliever that works a good fifty percent of the time

You have to learn to love where you are

even if it's choking you
*even if it makes you want to die
 Dec 2016
Eric Martin
Why does every thing have to feel so hopeless
Even though I have passion and am ferocious
I am still held back from the dread;
Of this devastating psychosis

I am left stuck up in my head
Thinking about all the things that need to be said
But I still feel that coldness;
Wishing I was dead

I feel so boneless
I wonder if any one would even notice
All these feelings I wish I could shed;
So my heart doesn't feel so soulless

I wonder if I have bin miss lead
I wonder if in the end I will be whole or just a shred
But I think my only prognosis;
Is this feeling will soon spread
And things will really become hopeless
 Dec 2016
My house is filled with ghosts,
That only I can see,
I try to tell my mother,
But she laughs at me.

They haunt my every step,
Whispering past events,
telling me their stories,
Filling me with worries.

I lay in bed at night,
Full of anxiety and fright,
That one of them might try to hurt me.

I see jet black figures in my mirrors,
And deformed silhouettes in my windows,
I close my eyes and pray for them to go away.

I guess I'm just intruding,
Living where they once did,
They have followed me around since I was a kid.

My mother takes me to the doctor,
Who diagnoses  me with schizophrenia,
Says' it's all in my head,
That I can't see anyone who's dead.

Locked in an institution for days,
They still wouldn't go away,
They never left my side,
They haunt me still to this day.
This is a true story, that happened to me not so long ago.
 Dec 2016
Am I crazy?
I see people, who aren't really there.
They talk to me, whispering things in my ear.

Don't tell anyone.
They'll lock you back up,
No discretion, but you just have bad luck.

They tell me I'm psychotic,
And dose me up on meds,
To make me feel "sane" again,
Their lies I will be fed.

But I've been there before, I've seen the road and I've been through the doors,
Seconds feel like years when you're in an asylum,
Your heart they will pour.

Don't call me schizophrenic,
Because I swear that I'm not,
I know the people that I see,
Were  once alive like me.
 Dec 2016
Don't listen to the pressure,
Who even said that skinny is better?
Those magazines and tv shows?
Being hateful is money and money is what they want.
So they will hate every minute of the day to make sure that their pay isn't going away.

Propaganda that visible bones is better,
Lies that skipping a meal is alright,
And teaching little girls that with their weight
They will always have to fight.

This is not how we were created to be,
We are all beautiful internally.
Don't listen to the pressure,
Skinny really isn't better.
Since I was 14 I've struggled with eating disorders, I think it's something that all young girls are self conscious about to some extent growing up because of what they see on social media X and in magazines.
It's really sad that some children will literally die trying to be as thin as they think they should be.
Eating disorders are often glorified nowadays,
And people don't realise the severity of it.
 Dec 2016
A psych ward is the place to be,
Come along, and you will see.
You'll be welcomed by forgotten silent deaths
and torturous screams.
An everlasting place of a need to be free.

Come on down to the "freak show",
We'll show you how we rock and roll,
Some say that we're unhinged,
But trust me honey, the fun is about to begin.

A lobotomy a day keeps the schizophrenia away they say,
An electric chair isn't the cruelest thing there,
By far it is knowing that you are not crazy, amongst a world that is.

We'll dance for you, we do it well.
But if we don't, torture will make it amends.
We sit here day on day, hoping for freedom,
Uncanny, unlikely, and an impossible dream.

A  psych ward is the place to be,
We'll grow old here and die a forgotten death,
The music is still playing,
The patients are still dancing,
This is my last day.

So come on down to our freak show, join our family, we'll show you how to rock and roll,
And die insanely.
This is a poem about when I was admitted to a mental institution for 5 months straight.
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