When I was a kid,
I didn't know if I'd be a teen.
Barely knowing the meaning of leaving,
yet wanting it more than anything else.
Every day I wake up feeling ill,
although I got all that I wanted,
I watch as they all gather around,
and smile one of their many faces.
I play along, because after all,
a show without it's actors,
is not worth spectating
or being a part of.
Tears filling my bathroom floor,
every single night, wishing it'd stop.
Crimson, blotchy drops slowly pile up,
creating a splatter in my line of sight.
Arms fall to the floor,
out of exhaustion.
Eyes closing within the darkness,
yet the bathroom light is still shining bright.
My lungs, feeling as if corrupted with froth.
A pulse beating louder and faster than ever.
My grip loosens, the scent? I don't know.
Cough, and cough, I finally throw up.
Releasing all that I've been holding.
Disgusting as ever, the taste.
Contents still pouring out,
yet I barely hear them impact the water.
Ouch, my head is spinning.
Is it true.. am I finally winning?
I lie on the cold, hard ground.
That loud fast pulse? Gone.
Turns out I was wrong.
I did make it to thirteen.
However, I was right.
I didn't, and wouldn't make it to eighteen.
Mar 13
Mar 13, 2026 at 4:08 PM UTC
When I was a kid,
I didn't know if I'd be a teen.
Barely knowing the meaning of leaving,
yet wanting it more than anything else.
Every day I wake up feeling ill,
although I got all that I wanted,
I watch as they all gather around,
and smile one of their many faces.
I play along, because after all,
a show without it's actors,
is not worth spectating
or being a part of.
Tears filling my bathroom floor,
every single night, wishing it'd stop.
Crimson, blotchy drops slowly pile up,
creating a splatter in my line of sight.
Arms fall to the floor,
out of exhaustion.
Eyes closing within the darkness,
yet the bathroom light is still shining bright.
My lungs, feeling as if corrupted with froth.
A pulse beating louder and faster than ever.
My grip loosens, the scent? I don't know.
Cough, and cough, I finally throw up.
Releasing all that I've been holding.
Disgusting as ever, the taste.
Contents still pouring out,
yet I barely hear them impact the water.
Ouch, my head is spinning.
Is it true.. am I finally winning?
I lie on the cold, hard ground.
That loud fast pulse? Gone.
Turns out I was wrong.
I did make it to thirteen.
However, I was right.
I didn't, and wouldn't make it to eighteen.
A little more graphic than my usual, and while it could be toned down, I like how graphic it is because it's raw and real. I want my audience to reach out to those who might be struggling mentally, or those who want to understand what those who are struggling feel.
