It’s the kind of sadness where your rib cage
Contorts
And twists and
Snaps.

Depression doesn’t float through my veins
It crawls through my bones, with dagger hands
And winding movements.

I cannot breathe.

And yet there was nothing taken from me.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

My brain feels like something
I am constantly trying to get away from
Unresolved trauma lays
And grey matter doesn’t stay
I’m in pain
A lot of the time
And I can’t stand being alone
Because of this
Distractions keep me occupied
But they don’t allow my issues to get fixed
I tried to go back to therapy
But my doctor hung up on me
And I am alone in the shallow end of the pool
Again
“Just stand up”
Is what I think
Is what I cry
All night
“Just stand up”
Is what everyone tells me
But what they don’t see
Is this pool is full of tar
And while it is shallow
It is drowning me still
It is holding me still
“Just stand up”
Do I create my own problems?
Do I hurt myself?
Am I the only reason that I still feel like this?
“Just stand up”
Molasses
“Just stand up”
A crisis
”Just stand up”
My limbs are numb
“Just stand up”
I stand
And my older brother stares at my naked body like he’s hungry
And I am 7 years old again
I stand
And I can see my father slap my mother across the face
I am 6 years old again
I stand
And I see the boy that manipulated me out of my body like a murderer who says “I love you” before shooting you
If you love me why are you doing this
Why are you violating me
I’m 16 years old again
And no one ever told me that my body was mine
That I could say no to the men who want to hurt me
That not everyone wants to love me the way I want to be
Loved
I stand
I spin
And I’m back down again.

The emptiness in my eyes,
The truth behind my lies,
The fall before my rise,
And the goodbyes;

It scares me.

The dark beneath my skin,
The light within my sins,
The voice that loudly sings,
And my broken wings;

It scares me.

The wounds I can't heal,
The pain I can't feel,
The loss I can't deal,
And when I am real;

It scares me.

The silence in my little talks,
The stillness in my moonlit walks,
The thought of separate ways,
And my numbered days;

It scares me.

The demons under my bed,
The words spinning in my head,
The blood in my sweat,
And my cold breath;

It scares me.

-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

we walk around with lips pulled tight
because we are living in darker light
we press our bodies, dying and thin
into fear and sadness, let it come in