Doctor! Doctor!
“Take one of these twice a day!”
They’ll stop your pain, they’ll make you feel normal.
Your sadness will go away.
These “Pills” don’t take away my sadness,
Is what you don’t understand, Doc.
These “Pills” replace my sadness temporarily,
With fake emotion.
These “Pills” are a joke to us struggling.
They don’t fix me, they pause my problem.

© Regan

I close my eyes,
I see a winter scene.
White flakes, rustic winter.
I reach out, looking for someone, as I am surrounded by nothing but myself.
The wind picks me up,
My head afloat.

I close my eyes,
And I have awoken.
Back into a reality I’m stuck in.
A lonely soul,
A cold, cold soul.

My frost bitten soul,
Leaves me cold.

© Regan

I’m sitting in my room.
Art supplies and paper scattered around.
I’m sitting next to my bed on the floor.
I’m writing this poem.
I’m crying.
I have pain that isn’t physical.
I have pain that hurts my brain and head.
At the end of the day, at currently 12:27,
I sit here, completely drained of energy.
My tears are too heavy to help me up,
My floor catches my tears as they fall,
My walls watching me.
My knees are up against my chest,
My arms rapped around myself.
My body is cold,
And I’m shivering.
I’m having a panic attack.
What do I do now?
I don’t want to move.
I can’t force myself up.
I’m stuck,
Weighed down by these extremely heavy tears.

© Regan

I have bruises,
From my stupidity.

I have cuts,
From my pain.

I have scars,
From my past.

But I still get up every day,
Just like you.

Your unexposed skin,
Has no match for what mine has seen.

My skin, not only has had battles with others,
But myself.

Your skin is clean,
Fresh and innocent.

My skin is scarred,
From my own hands.

© Regan

She’s been swimming more
But she didn’t learn this way
Learned by drowning

© Regan