Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2014
I would like to explain to you
how my insides burn down the cities within myself
I have spent days and weeks and months trying to rebuild
from the last time I set myself ablaze
but I cannot.
These hands cannot grasp yours and guide you into my dark mind
all the while still trying to hold onto any sanity I have left-
these knuckles are bruising and you can see the scabs
but you don't seem to realize how they got there..
This heart is aching and you stare and wonder-
how the **** it got so exhausted..
I could try to show you exactly how I feel
but your eyes would be blinded by naivety
and your desire to act like everything is okay
when it's not, when I'm not-
I'm not ******* okay.
And I can continue to write it down
until my fingers wither away
and become one with this keyboard
until my pencil fades and all that's left
are the marks from where I tried to erase everything-
these feelings are not made out of ink.
I can't just put them on a page and show you
I can't pour out the ink and make something beautiful
you will never know what it's like..
I was never really good at explaining things-
like the way you make me feel
or the color of your eyes when the light hits them just right
but I think I'm getting pretty **** close.
And you see this mind of mine
is more like a maze nowadays
because I can't get through to other-side
to find where the **** my happiness lays
and I think it's ******* hiding
because it's afraid of what I am capable of.
Because the last time I found it
I sat on top of my roof at 2am
looking at the stars and laughing hysterically
at every single passing car
because it reminded me of my life.
The last time I found it-
I tried to take it and fall in love with someone else's lonely
but you see that **** nearly destroyed me and my happy
so now I think my happiness is afraid of me-
and I think I'm afraid of my happy...
Because without my sadness and this pain in my gut
that causes me to sit here and have to explain to you
that I can't make this **** go away-
**** even the FDA can't make this **** go away...
it keeps me thriving and hoping and clinging
to this pain in my gut and these thoughts in my head
reminding me that at any moment I can die-
wither away like I don't give a **** about my life
but what good is that
when it feels so ******* lovely to be alive?

I would like to take a paintbrush
across your eyelids and paint for you
what it is I'm going through.
Maybe take a picture so you can remember
this battle I face everyday
as the emotions I posses weigh you down
and as the words "this is too much for me to deal with"
leave your lips and you wish you wouldn't have signed up for this-
I hope you remember what it felt like to wish you would die.
I hope you remember that everyday is a struggle for me not to-
I hope you remember loving myself isn't easy either.
I hope you remember as I carry the weight on my shoulders
the burdens you carry on yours
that my life isn't a cake walk
it's more like walking on a gravel road barefoot
and although I may not suffer as much as most
that doesn't ******* mean I don't suffer.
I have spent most of my life cradling the idea of betterment
in my arms and making sure the people around me were safe-
I have spent too many years-
taking care of who should be taking care of me.
Now it's my turn to take care of me-
So don't you dare ******* say, I'm not trying.
Amanda Stoddard
Written by
Amanda Stoddard  United States
(United States)   
531
   SPT
Please log in to view and add comments on poems
 
Please log in to see that page