Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 6
She sits and writes
For hours
Made of pills and scotch tape
Her father halfway across the country
The snow fell in Wisconsin first time in weeks
On the night of her birth
Three feet
Of ice
Always emotionally cold
Broken and tired
Made of sleeplessness and self-deprecation
Full of snow and shaking nerves
Anxious and sick of life
Opening her eyes is a ten thousand mile run
She needs sleep and hunger
But the sleep she gets is tortured
The sleep she gets is mournful
The world she made is lonely
Her head is loud and her mind is cluttered
Filled with useless feelings
She is too cowardly to talk to
She is too broken
She is too annoying
She is too clingy
She is too selfish
She should be avoided like the illness she is
A parasite
The demon she chokes
Is the demon she is
The way she will speak
Is through the eyes of her fears
The way she will eat… are her thoughts
Her brain is folding in
And her bones are giving out
Her breath is failing, oxygen running low
Her medication is taking over
Her body is going through and eating itself
it is giving up
on her
and on everything else
take this as a sign
that these thoughts are real
they are happening
but they don't leave
my life is falling apart
the illnesses are getting worse
my body and brain are getting worse
my will isn't strong enough
im cracking apart
my body is going into panic mode
my break is pushing people away
i don't know what to do anymore
there is nothing i can do except make everything worse
i've cried my lungs out
i've done it all, poetry, self-harm, therapy, all of it
nothing works except self-destruction
Alex Mars
Written by
Alex Mars  Genderqueer/Still in IKEA: day 546
(Genderqueer/Still in IKEA: day 546)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems