Don’t give any suspicion, no, not ammunition
I wouldn’t want a repeat, but there’s always another lurking.
You’ve checked my closets far enough, breached and infringed on all my stuff
How does it feel peaking, ravaging the room and sneaking
What knowledge are you peeping?
I see that you are freaking.
Yes, I’ll change, yes, I swear.
Go away, don’t ******* stare.
No, I haven’t slept in days.
I’m pondering my next escape.
It’s really quite exhausting,
I’m either paralyzed or resolving
a bleak and bleary future,
maybe drugs and unhinged stupor
But you know as well as I
That I absolutely need to survive
I can’t afford to die
I can’t afford to die.
If not for myself, I’ll live in others
They’ll recall me when they shudder
Something’s in the room? No, another
Hallucination, some type of clutter.
You’ve built my insecurity,
you’ll fall for false maturity
The doctors will say I’m a-okay
Holy hell, she’s changed her ways.
Wellbutrin’s in the flower,
the flower’s in the tea ***,
resting by my bed side,
you’d never check my bed side.
Razor’s in the picture frame,
I reminisce of when it maimed
my skin and I felt something,
now I feel just nothing.
I tried to hide, these things of mine,
well enough you wouldn’t find
something wrong the next time,
there will not be a “next time.”
Poem about people catching onto your mental health and scavenging your room, breaching your privacy, locking you away, until you take the steps to get out of it.