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Hannah Bauer Oct 2015
Malignant cells residing in her chest.
It’s bad, they say, as if we can’t tell,
In the trash is where her hair dwells.
Her body is scarred, as she undressed,
Her naked soul exposed because of her breast.
Home is not home as we are residing in hell,
For who would want to say to their mother, farewell.
Some say that the victim is the only one stressed,
But all of us, her family, are depressed.
Our “home” is filled with gloom
For God is silent on His throne.
The hope in our souls is known;
She will be made new, as in the womb.
We can feel it in our bones;
We know we are not alone.
Hannah Bauer May 2015
I'm glad you came here.
Thank you for remembering this.
Thank you for remembering to look at this.
I know it hurts.
I know.

You're scared out of your mind that this is going to be your entire life.
Full of pain.
Full of fear.
Full of depression and anxiety.
Full of storms and trials that leave you breathless on the ground, shaking from the panic that courses through your blood.
You think that if you just die now, you'll be in heaven.
Where it is so much better.
Where there is no pain.
No depression.
No anxiety.
No fear.

But, you have your life to live right now.
And it won't be an awful life.
How do I know?

Because beauty is in everything and it is just waiting to fully bloom.

You want to know the beauty that was in today?
Today, I had an amazing, life-giving conversation.
My fears and thoughts were validated.
I was told I wasn't alone.
I geeked out with him over film.
And I was given the biggest compliment.
I was told that my mind intrigued him.
We shared about our own experiences with depression.
We talked about God and how sometimes there just aren't answers.
It was amazing and it was just what I needed.
You won't have that if you make your thoughts a reality.

I want you to remember everything and everyone you love.
On earth.
In this life.
I want you to remember why you need to stay alive.

Remember your family.
Remember your dad who is going through so much pain.
Remember your mom who is fighting to stay with you.
Remember your brother who loves you, even though it does not feel like it.
Remember your cousin who will do anything for you.
Remember that they will do everything in their power to help you.

Remember your friends.
Remember your best friend who won't know what to do without you.
Remember your teachers who pray and talk with you.
Remember how they are fighting with you and for you.

Remember your favorite things.
Remember driving in your car at night with your music blasting.
Remember reading a good book with the warmth of the fireplace.
Remember the rush of taking a risk, whether physical or emotional.

Remember tea and peaches and blankets and books.
Remember conversations and movies and passion and love.
Remember oceans and mountains and flowers and stars.

Remember all the little things.
Remember how life can be so surprising.

So get your headphones,
blast your music,
drown out those voices,
and when you're ready,
go to sleep.
I promise that it won't be so bleak in the morning.
Hannah Bauer Nov 2015
I wail and scream and cry
my fists pounding against His chest
in rhythm with the nails in His hands
“Why. Why. I don’t understand”

My heart is breaking
My skin is sweating
My body is shaking
My fists are pounding

I am broken
I am angry

I feel Him start to move.
I see His hand reach out
and I prepare to be slapped.

But He moves some hair
that had fallen in my eyes
behind my ear.

He wraps His arms tightly around me.
Never letting go.

My pounding slows.
My shaking fades.

And I look up in shock
as I feel a teardrop on my nose.
I see water pouring from His eyes
as He weeps over my pain.

*My heart begins to mend.
Hannah Bauer Jul 2015
I remember a time some summers back.
Brother and sister climb into the bath tub,
bathing suits on,
ready to relax and have fun.

Brother wasn't always so nice to sister.
He yelled things, terrible things.
He hit hard, awfully hard.
He said he didn't know his own strength.

Sister doesn't know if he meant physically or emotionally.

But that day was good.
It was a day of sun and water.

Brother wanted to see how long sister could hold her breath.
So she went down.
Underwater where the sounds echo and distort.
She waited.

Sister came up a half minute later.

Suddenly, brother pushed sister back under.
Sister had barely gotten a breath in.
Sister waited a few seconds.
Then it got hard to breathe.

Sister pushed her brother.
Started pushing
against his arm.

Sister cried:

Brother released sister's head.
Brother laughed at my tears.
Brother scoffed my fear.

Brother never said "sorry".

Today, years later, the story is the same.
Only now,
the water is depression
and the brother
Unfortunately, this is a true story. Wish I made it up.
Hannah Bauer Oct 2013
What is depression?
Depression is a monster. It claws at you and tears you to bits. It takes away anything pleasant you have in your life and leaves you with a constant feeling of despair. And eventually, when it has taken all that you are and you are nothing, it still rips you apart. It’s a monster, depression is. And the worst part, is even though it is ripping you to smitherines, you can’t live without it. It becomes your home and you become so used to the feeling of slowly dying. Depression is a teacher. It teaches you how to roll a curtain over the fatal wounds. It teaches you how to plaster a smile on your face while despondency blankets every corner of your body and mind. It beats you into obedience until your cowering in the corner and have no other option but to let it take over. A cruel teacher, depression is. It never stops its lectures and even though you beg to leave the classroom, it locks the doors and never lets you go.
I have become free of depression, its tyranny over. But now I hear it knocking on the door, its raps becoming harder and harder and more constant never leaving my head with its eagerness to re-enter my mind. I long to never hear those knocks again. But even though I am free, it always continues to try and tear the door to pieces and force itself back into me. But I am strong. And even when I am weak, I am not alone. And depression is not strong enough to overcome two.
Hannah Bauer Jul 2015
The Artist painted
the skies and molded
the stars and galaxies
to His liking.

He sculpted the
mountains out of
clay and dirt.

He wrote music
and taught the birds
to sing His chords.

He carved a place
for the ocean and
poured His love
in its depths.

He made man.
He knit veins to bones.
Skin to ligaments and muscle.
Built a cage to protect our heart
as He knew that it
is so easily broken.
He connected nerves to the brain
and in that brain,
He made so complex of a
system that science is still
baffled by the ***** that
holds the information
of our personality.
Our emotions.
Our passions.

He did something crazy.

He gave man free will.
To love or to hate.
To turn to or against.

And man turned against.
Hid from his Creator.
The One who knows his
inmost being.

And beauty was distorted.

All that is beautiful
is only an

An echo of the home
that we once knew.
An echo of the original
Artist, the one who
taught us to create.

*All I can do now
is to try and capture
Your beauty
to show to others.
Hannah Bauer Jul 2015
Have you ever felt the kind of numbness that sinks into your bones?
The kind that leaves you hollow and empty inside.
All except for that lingering lead ball
residing in the pit of my stomach.

No matter what I do,
the medication I take,
the therapists I see,
the prayers I pray,
that lead ball is still there.

And when things escalate,
my soul is despondent within me
and eventually,
the numbness takes over.

"Seek God and all will be well"
I call BS.

Not all will be well.
In fact, we are guaranteed a difficult life.

I just want a break sometimes.
A breath of fresh air, you know?

It's hard to get that
when there's a lead ball
in your stomach
and numbness
in your bones.
Hannah Bauer Jul 2014
My Dad once told me that I
would meet my love poem.
You know the guy that all
the songs sing about?
The one that all the poems
write about?
That guy that everyone
seems to know
but me.

Daddy said that my guy
would love me just as
those poems and
songs said he

That I would be that lucky girl
receiving his love and understanding.

Will the late nights staying up
listening to love songs
and reading poetry,
dreaming of the
man who will
be wed
to me
be worth it?

Or will those nights be a total waste?

*Did Daddy tell the truth?
Hannah Bauer Jan 2016
A baby is born.
Hope handed over,
wrapped in blankets
and swaddled in light.
The baby grows
in warmth and love.

The years go by in flashes
of increasing darkness.
Seventeen years later,
the same child
crushes her knees
to her chest, warding
off the panic
in her blood
and the depression
in her head.

Abused. Assaulted.
Life crashed down.
Disease. Death.
Too much.

The parents stare
in shock.
Where is the hope?
The light?
The joy?
Their arms crave
to hold the bundle of hope
swaddled in light.
Their eyes yearn
to hear the warmth
of laughter bubbling
from lips too silent.

Shadow shrouds
the child,
with her knees crushed
to her chest.
Battle scars much too deep
and past much too dark.
Had the idea for this a few months ago, but only finally wrote it a couple weeks ago.
Hannah Bauer Apr 2014
Almost every day,
I am fake.
Not in my beliefs,
or my personality,
or even my body.
My emotions are fake.
The ones that I choose to display, that is.
Or, I should say, the mask that I choose to wear.
A mask?
What does my mask look like?
Well, it looks something like this.
Strong. Happy. Confident. Independent.
In control. Smiling. Lighthearted.
Life is good.
No one would guess that all of this is fake.
And do you want to know the
thing that I wish most
for people to do?
I wish that they would see behind
the mask.
I wish there was someone who can
see my true feelings.
Who can see the depression in my smile.
The anger in my silence.
The weakness in my confidence.
The frailty in my strength.
The need in my independence.

I need someone who can not only
see these things,
but is willing to talk to me about it.
Whose willing to not just
watch me wilt away
and force myself
to struggle on my own.
I need someone who will slap
me in the face and tell me that
I am not alone.
I don't have to fight this by myself.
I don't need to hide.

there is no one like that.
Not for me.
All that people see is
the happy, benevolent girl who
always smiles at everyone she sees.
I need someone who can
see the expertly concealed anguish
behind the constant, cheerful mask.
I need someone to rip that smile away and show me that I don't have to hide.

I fear for that person to come.
I desperately need my mask to stay in place.
I can't let people down.

I can't let down their expectations.
I can't show them that I really am not happy.
I can't disappoint them.
And so, I desperately wish no one
will see behind my mask.
It's a paradox.
I need someone to see
yet I fear for my life
if they do see.
I wish my mask would burn in
something that I've been feeling lately. I always smile at people in the hallways and I am always polite. But sometimes, I just want to sit in a corner and cry. Yet, I feel like I can't do that because people expect me to be happy. So, I continue living life with my mask on.
Hannah Bauer Jul 2015
I feel like a puppet.
I wish God would make up His mind.
One minute death,
the next life.

I feel like I’m in a stormy sea.
Being tossed to and fro amongst the waves,
battered and beaten down.

Please God,
release me from this.
I wrote this when we didn't know if my mom was going to live or die because of cancer. Her cancer was unresponsive to chemo, but then, all of a suddenly, there was supposedly no cancer in her body.
Hannah Bauer Jul 2015
When we see dark clouds,
we think the storm is beautiful.
We sit in our homes
and listen to the rain
soaking into the ground.
We go outside
and dance.

Sometimes there is destruction.
Sometimes there is chaos.
But there is still rain
And with rain,
the flowers and trees
are able to grow.

They become stronger.

Are not humans the same?
We see rainstorms and we see beauty.
Why is it that when we see
the storms of life,
we see only
Only pain.

*Even though the storm is painful,
we grow like nature.
Hannah Bauer Mar 2015
Imagine pitch black.
Can't even see your hand in front of your face.
The ground feels unsteady.
Like it's about to collapse from underneath you.

Imagine a dark wilderness.
Stretching for miles with no way out.
The shifting sands changing the landscape.
Like the entire world is shaking.

You're trying to climb your way out of the pitch black.
You're trying to find the path out of the wilderness.
You're trying to get a breath of air in the suffocating night.

Don't forget.
Don't forget to look up at the sky.
Though there is no sun,
the moon and stars still shine.

Don't forget.
Don't forget to look at the ground.
Though there is dirt and rubble,
the diamonds and gems are waiting to be gathered.

Don't forget.
Don't forget to feel the coolness of the water.
Though it is soaking your bones,
it is washing away the grime on your skin.

Slow your breath.
Listen to the night.
The breeze weaving through the leaves.
The water tapping the ground.
The horizon calling your name to things unseen.
To things undone.

Nature is crying out to us.
The staggerers through the night.
The searchers of love.
The chasers of light.

When it feels like the darkest night has come,
and you're on your face in the sand,
don't forget to roll over.
And look at the stars.
Made this poem for a video for a film festival. Even though the pain might not end, there is still hope. Don't give up. Always keep fighting.
Hannah Bauer Jul 2015
I am safe.
I am protected.
You built a hedge around me
that no one can break through.
Not without Your permission.
You are keeping me safe.
You are protecting me.
The future is bright with hope.
The darkness is in my past,
and even when painful times come,
You will still be here.
You will still keep me safe.
You will still protect me.
Hannah Bauer Jul 2015
a deep dark abyss
of a heart rises
the pain she can’t resist
unknowingly consuming her

it starts as nothing
a night crying disregarded
thought as hormones
not actual tears from her heart

the silence follows
people pushing feelings aside
not knowing the silly words hurt
not knowing how she cries at night

she’s regarded as talentless
thought as a person without
attention-worthy opinions
one who’s feelings don’t matter

she tempts thoughts of harm
picking up a blade, but setting it back
knowing she couldn’t stand the pain afterwards
just wanting people to see how she hurts

just wanting people to care for her
just wanting to be appreciated
just wanting people to pray for her
but no one knows

so the pain just sits in her heart
even with a smile on her face
even when she laughs
inside, she cries
Wrote this three years ago. Life was not going well.
Hannah Bauer Sep 2013
The puzzle that is the world
is missing a piece.
A piece, that when included,
would change everything.
But the piece that is sitting
on the sidelines, watching,
It doesn’t fit.
It looks around and sees
the loneliness that comes
from being itself.
A bit too much of this,
too little of that.
It wasn’t made for this puzzle.
Even though it is the last piece
and it should fit,
it wasn’t made to fit in.
It wasn’t made for this puzzle.
The divine puzzle is where
it calls home.
But it can’t get home.
Home is a place where
it is not allowed.
Not yet.
The piece has to leave it’s mark
on the lost puzzle.  
It’s a lonely road
with an entire generation going one way
and a singular piece going the other.
Striving to get home.
Striving to just be heard
in a world full of unneeded noise.
The piece sees it’s destiny.
It has a passionate, relentless dream inside
it’s entire being.
It knows what it’s called for
and what it longs to do.
But the restrictions of it’s life
and the road that it is on
“Not yet”.
“Not now”.
“Just wait”.
“My timing
is right”.
The piece expects the
world to shift under
it’s footsteps.
But the power of the divine,
it doesn’t show up.
Not in the way
the piece expected.
A lonely road this is.
With an entire generation going one way
and a singular piece going the other.
It wasn’t made for this puzzle.
Hannah Bauer Apr 2014
I hate being vulnerable.
It’s terrifying.
Letting go of those emotions
that you work so hard to hide.
Every day, at some point,
I have to force down negative
emotions at the thought that someone
might see and know that I am not
the strong person I show myself
to be. That I am weak and that
I am struggling.
I hate being vulnerable.
It entails opening up to someone
and telling them all those *****
little secrets that you desperately
seek to hide.
Being raw with someone.
But at the same time,
it sounds beautiful.
To be able to find someone
who you can be vulnerable with.
That trust.
That raw, unadulterated trust.
How can you know
when you have found the right person?
Can you know?
It’s terrifyingly beautiful.
I crave it.
I fear it.
Whatever I share could
be used against me.
They could laugh in my face and
mock my pain.
They could kick my dreams
in the dust or
I could be rejected.
But, I could be accepted.
I could be loved.
**It’s terrifying.
It’s beautiful.
Hannah Bauer Apr 2014
Is it sad that sometimes,
I want to be terribly injured
to see if people care?
Thinking while talking with
friends on a balcony,
wondering if I get pushed off
accidentally, what would they
Would there be fear in their eyes?
Would they run down the stairs
to see if I was alive?
Would they panic and wonder
what the world is going to be like without me?
Or would they feel... nothing?
Would they not even care?
If I survived the fall and came back
to them in a wheelchair,
would they help me with my things?
Would they stand by my side
and help me navigate the crowds?
Would they feel guilty and
Would they worry?
Or would they watch me
Struggling to get past people
and desperately trying to hold
onto my belongings.
And walk away.
Would they hide?
Would they scorn?
*Would they care?

— The End —