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621 · Mar 2019
Dear Mother,
Hannah Douglas Mar 2019
Sometimes I wonder how much you think of me,
was my birth a hindrance to your wellbeing
and am I now just another burden to bare?

I don't know.

I've searched for love for a long time now,
not the kind which burns at your *****,
lighting embers within the pit of your stomach
but the kind which cradles you with the soft warmth
which radiates only from the tender embrace of family.

I don't know...

You used to assure me that I was special,
your special little soldier
but now I may have been court-martialed
as I am no longer your little girl,
I am a cracked portrayal of my old shell
with nothing inside my hollow chest
but a withered hope.

I now know,
it's never going to be the same.
Whoop! Teenage angst.
349 · Mar 2019
Lilies
Hannah Douglas Mar 2019
They can't know,
I won't let them know.
The lilies which blossom,
emerging from the dark,
murky waters of my heart
are to be culled.
Each sinful petal burned,
the crisp ashes blown into the wind,
never to be seen again.

They wouldn't understand
the pulsing pain that drives me,
it drums in my ears constantly
silencing each rotten thought
before they bloom into something more:
something unsightly.
346 · Mar 2019
Blank
Hannah Douglas Mar 2019
I stare through a plane of distortion
as a calm anxiety engulfs me,
numbing every sensation
until everything else is a blank nothing.

It hurts to know that I once shone,
emitting a harsh radiance, like the sun.
they used to avert their fragile corneas
from my invasive rays but now...

I am a blank nothing.
339 · Mar 2019
Communicate
Hannah Douglas Mar 2019
I struggle to voice my thoughts,
each consonant lost somewhere;
stuck between my lips and throat,
each intended syllable lies dormant
and waiting.

Even when I pass the threshold of speech
all that comes out is a jumble of pleasantries
constructed by my forefathers,
their forefathers
and those before them.

For now, I am bound to my pen,
the inky tears have stained my skin
and I am still standing.
The thick fog which obscures my voicebox
can't obstruct the flow in which my thoughts spill
violently onto the page.
I know that this probably isn't relatable but a lot of the time I really struggle to get my words out and for someone who is rarely ever taken seriously by those around me (I can be pretty goofy) I find it hard to express myself so things like music and poetry can be really cathartic for me.
222 · Mar 2019
The Closet
Hannah Douglas Mar 2019
I can't recall when I first realised
the walls which encapsulate me,
starving my lungs of the pure air
which glimmers through the cracks.

No physical chains bind me to my prison
yet I am still always in search for the key
scraping at the corners I grasp for freedom,
however, I know it is out of my reach.

Some days I would part my chapped lips,
wondering if the confession would spill
but some part of me within always knew
I am not strong enough to be myself.
This poem was inspired by another written by Em, https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2961784/hide-away/ , it really resonated with me.
118 · Aug 2019
My Season Has Changed
Hannah Douglas Aug 2019
I can smell the freshly cut grass,
the earthy scent welcoming me
to the new season;

I can hear the chirping of birds,
singing their melodies across
the warm summer sky;

I can see the bright beams of light,
each ray enchanting the world
around me, banishing the darkness
and despair;

I can feel the cool breeze brushing
against my scarred skin,
soothing old burns as it billows in
from the North;

I can taste the freedom now that
I've opened my windows,
expelling the nothingness which
used to haunt me... dragging me
to the daunting, dingy depths of
my deprived mind but now it's
different - I'm different.
I still have the same old anxiety and the same old problems as I've had for a while now but I know that I am more than my anxiety, I can do more than nothing. There is so much that I was missing out on because I was scared but I'm not letting my fears hold me back from being myself any longer.

Still gonna write angsty poetry though :p
114 · May 2019
Golem
Hannah Douglas May 2019
For years I let you mold me,
   scared of letting time do its job.
I remained sheltered in your grasp,
   pushed into shape by your palms.
Each word you said sculpted my mind
   as you scraped away into my cracks,
   etching smile lines where my freedom once was.
But now your hands no longer cover my eyes,
I can see my reflection.

Brown, broken and ugly.
109 · Nov 2020
Small
Hannah Douglas Nov 2020
I don't know how to describe this sensation,
it's kinda like being a small fish in a big pond
or some other overused cliché.
      When I walk in the world I see the buildings, the trees,
the people... and I just sorta think,
            "wow. I'm so small."
      And I'm right, I am small...
I'm small right now and I'm scared.
Despite being small though, I'm gonna stand.
Stand tall on my tippy toes.

And pretend I actually matter.
I read these other and think "oh my god, why did I write that" but at the end of the day idc lol
104 · Mar 2019
Embers
Hannah Douglas Mar 2019
I used to hold your hand,
remember?
I was drawn to your comfort,
wrapping my cold fingers
around your blazing warmth.

You thawed my icy chest,
cradling the soft wick within
with such tentative love.
I was sure it would re-light.
Desperately so.

Assured by our covenant,
I waited for the embers
and even now I lie dormant
awaiting your flame
in the ashes.
95 · Sep 2020
Term Time
Hannah Douglas Sep 2020
I feel a chill in my spine that clings to my skin, embracing me from behind and whispering into my ear. "It's all pointless, really". The soft mumbles that echo in my head make me wonder what would happen.

What would happen if I stepped in front of the oncoming car?

What would happen if  I no longer exhausted myself day in and day out for nothing more than a B+?

What would happen if I could go back to being a blank nothing?

As I am writing this, tender tears are falling gently down my swollen face, cupping my cheeks and embracing me with such close contact.

It's such a cold warmth that surrounds me.
I don't want to go to school for seven hours a day only to return and study for four. I can't take it anymore, it's too much and I've barely even started.
69 · May 2020
Collateral Damage
Hannah Douglas May 2020
Crack. Thwack. Crumble.
Each speck of dust just drops
and drops and drops.
Floating above the craters that were
cracked, thwacked, and crumbled
deep into the Earth. My Earth.
Our Earth. What Earth?

What's left?
Grammarly says this poem is informative.
69 · Jan 2020
The Process
Hannah Douglas Jan 2020
I don't like making drafts,
each line is almost composed
on a whim. A feeling. A passion.
Something that has been swelling
within me for some time, a liberating
release of emotion that can not and
shall not be stopped, filling my lungs
and drowning me with a tenacity that
will never escape my parched lips.
58 · Jan 2020
Know
Hannah Douglas Jan 2020
Self-sabotage comes naturally to
me, I know not to plunge myself
into the deep dark abyss before
me but alas I just can't help myself
from jumping headfirst and screaming.
52 · Mar 2020
Beautiful Day
Hannah Douglas Mar 2020
Its spring now,
The bright rays of sun
Break through clusters of
Heavy, grey clouds.

No longer will the overcast
Sky threaten to ******* away.

From here I float, enjoying the
Muffled bird songs from under
Thick sheets of unbreaking ice
Where I will drown in silence.
47 · Jun 2020
Try
Hannah Douglas Jun 2020
Try
I'm not sure why I am even trying anymore.
I'm not sure if I was ever trying at all.
But if I was never trying... why has it been
so ******* hard.
40 · Jun 2020
Draft
Hannah Douglas Jun 2020
I started writing this poem in 2019,
I never published it though. Obviously.
I want to know what went wrong along the way
and why my friends couldn't stay
and why I have to pay
for a ****** today.

— The End —