Eye contact is not an option
I can’t hold a conversation
It’s basically impossible
Fitting in is not my forte
I can’t even explain
What it feels like
To NOT be able to talk
Even when you really want to
Even after hours of mental preparation
Nothing comes out
Not even a squeak
Social anxiety kinda *****
Sorry, my poetry has gotten extremely sloppy. And I’ve been facing MAJOR writers block. Any suggestions on how to get over this??
If I die tomorrow, I want the world to know I had a name.
If I die tomorrow, I want to know that you won’t do the same.
If I die tomorrow, I want to end it all on a high.
If I die tomorrow, I want to at least have told my friends goodbye.
"Friendship" only came to you as love.
And you never saw it, until just now.
And it hurts, but you were blind.
Blind to a crush.
Blind to a one sided romance.
Blind to a foreboding "friendship" that was always meant to slip away.
You can never be just that when your as pretty as you are.
im not sure exactly how true this is, but it certainly feels like it,
Why do I feel numb
Watching the world
Listless in sight
Because I only see it in black and white
Colors are washed out of my eyes
And every light in me has died
All I see are smiles as frowns
Because I only see them upside down
Love songs don’t have any meaning
For a person who is trapped in their mind
Love can attempt to come my way
And I will just glance and walk away
Storm clouds cries and fills the ocean
But my salty tears competes with emotion
Filling the ocean ten times till tomorrow
That the ocean will be overwhelmed with sorrow
In the end,
I try a superficial smile
And try to fool myself for awhile
But as much as I try
There is nothing left inside
Because everything in me
Can’t seem to come alive
For those who suffer from mental illness, I hear you and I know. There is help and above all hope. You are strong, keep fighting, you are worth it.
I don’t know about you
But I may be 22
Before I feel like reading this again
And remembering how things once were
Depression, Jealousy, Nostalgia, Inferiority, Rejection, Hopelessness, Friends, Hurt, Sleepless Nights, Anxiety, Shame, and Wanting to Crawl Into a Box to Escape the Pain of Living.
Oh, and Love too, I guess.
But if I never met you,
I never would have lived.
seven years passed like the phases of the moon,
since her parents had their last fight,
their marriage stained maroon.
ever since, she stayed with Daddy,
always on the run.
she learned to live a life of crime,
and to never trust anyone.
now she’s all but sixteen,
but her hands are stained in blood.
she shot the sheriff where he stood,
his crimson tears a flood.