Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
6d
I hate myself.
Ah, what a shocking revelation.
Another day, another shipwreck,
Like I ever had a map to calmer waters.

I hate myself.
A song stuck on repeat,
An anthem my mind refuses to rewrite,
A weight pressing against my ribs, unyielding.

I hate myself.
And here comes the grand finale:
The urge to tighten, to silence,
As if choking on air could quiet the waves.

I hate myself.
So much that even my reflection looks away,
So much that even my shadow hesitates to follow.
So much, and yet, I am still here.

But you are here.
Somehow still standing,
A survivor of a war no one sees,
A heartbeat that refuses surrender.

You are here.
Your chest is tight, your hands are shaking,
Your mind swings between stay and run,
But at least you still feel, right?

You are here.
Breathe. Or let your body do it for you.
It knows how to stay afloat,
Even when your mind is begging to sink.

You are here.
And you deserve better.
Not because it’s poetic,
But because no storm lasts forever.

You are here.
And so am I.
So tell me, do we drown, or do we learn to swim?
If this storm feels familiar, you’re not alone. Let me know if this speaks to you.
Stéphanie
Written by
Stéphanie  38/F/Tio'tia:ke
(38/F/Tio'tia:ke)   
93
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems