Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
now i wake up at five a.m. insuring i've sufficient time to paint my face on kind enough my hands smell like coffee i taste blood from blisters breaking down and around my smallest joints *(in control stay in control i have to stay in control)* smile until my face aches in a kind of competitive way because my pain will bring no gain if i can't seem nicer than the next girl *(i keep saying that i'm dead inside but the irony of the joke is that i'm actually too alive to want these thoughts)* and i'm sure if i told anyone that anxiety keeps me wide awake and depression keeps me asleep they just might not believe it *(i don't think it sounds reasonable to say i've got a physical and chronic pain in my head from the pressure of my darkest most brutal thoughts)* when i was thirteen i told myself never ever to use my mental illness as an excuse so i plunged forward through depression deserts anxiety avalanches forests of fear tired old towns migraine mountains warped wastelands and suicide swamps and just last week i realized my downfall in not letting my pain tell me when to slow down when what i would not allow to be my excuse became my disability.
0
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 9:16 PM UTC
excuse
now i wake up at five a.m. insuring i've sufficient time to paint my face on kind enough my hands smell like coffee i taste blood from blisters breaking down and around my smallest joints *(in control stay in control i have to stay in control)* smile until my face aches in a kind of competitive way because my pain will bring no gain if i can't seem nicer than the next girl *(i keep saying that i'm dead inside but the irony of the joke is that i'm actually too alive to want these thoughts)* and i'm sure if i told anyone that anxiety keeps me wide awake and depression keeps me asleep they just might not believe it *(i don't think it sounds reasonable to say i've got a physical and chronic pain in my head from the pressure of my darkest most brutal thoughts)* when i was thirteen i told myself never ever to use my mental illness as an excuse so i plunged forward through depression deserts anxiety avalanches forests of fear tired old towns migraine mountains warped wastelands and suicide swamps and just last week i realized my downfall in not letting my pain tell me when to slow down when what i would not allow to be my excuse became my disability.
Copyright 11/19/16 by B. E. McComb
Written by
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 9:16 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem