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ThePoet Nov 2015
They don't know how it feels

to awake every morning,
and all they can wonder is
why they had even awoken.

They don't know how it feels

to pick up all of their pieces,
and put them back together
but still feel like they're broken.

They don't know how it feels

to say all that they can say,
and still feel like there's more
but every word has been spoken.

They don't know how it feels

to go to sleep every night,
and the only hope they have
is that their eyes will not open.

© Sarah Ahmed (ThePoet)
Nobody  Feb 14
Chains
Nobody Feb 14
They act like foolish mice lost in a maze,
with heart eyes, who only admire and send praise;
so blown away, and stuck in a dumb daze.
It’s amusing they excuse your wicked ways,
and you can gladly starve them all for days;
while smiling madly, not even fazed.
They’re dim and dull, you need entertained.
You can’t help it, you think, but don’t dare say,
to sustain your pointless little games;
that you can’t ever seem to abstain.
It’s the higher ground you need to gain.
So lure them in enduring your demented cage.
Provoke their wrath and force them to cave,
spread your foul poison to their every vein.
There’s no denying they’re enslaved,
locked tight in your chains.
SMN Dec 2014
you see,
that’s the problem
with being the strong one
who always offers others
a hand
everyone thinks that you
don’t need a hand and
they think you have lots
of surplus energy and no
worries

*(s.m)
MeanAileen  Mar 2017
My Reality
MeanAileen Mar 2017
It's my best friend,
and my nightmere-
it's all that I love
and everything I fear.
It's my fulfillment,
my bottomless sorrow-
bringing dark thoughts
of no tomorrow.
It's my strength,
my greatest plight-
this evil addiction
I try to fight.
It's my oblivion,
my heartbreaking pain-
this toxic cloud
is killing my brain.
It's my protection,
my paranoid lies-
the Devil himself
in crystal disguise.
It's my sanity,
my endless strife-
this methamphetamine
destroying my life.
It's my reality,
my make-believe bliss-
I just never imagined
it would be quite like this....
Truth be told....
Does my life want to end itself
I know I'm not one to have these thoughts given a bubbly personality
But every day it seems my life drifts farther from reality
I cry
I scream
      to no one

Maybe if they find me leaking out the back of my skull
They will look back to find signs they know would tell
But there were no signs
I'm that good


Every waking moment tests my grip
As my eyes twitch my mind slips

I've lived a life of shattered smiles
Broken songs
****** up lies
But I put back the pieces so well every morning no one can tell
I'm that good
For all worried
I'll tell you don't worry
It's just poetic
Bella Jul 17
Sometimes I get stuck in this state of Darkness
where my eyes can see
but it's like my head is just pitch black
and I almost wish I couldn't see anything,
like I wish I could just curl myself into a ball so tightly that I disappear from space for a while

sometimes I get stuck in this space
and I feel like my tears and my thoughts
are climbing up my esophagus and clogging my throat
blocking my airway
suffocating me from the inside

maybe I never told you I was depressed because who wants to relive that moment
that choking hazard moment of cotton ***** in my throat

maybe I never told you I was depressed because there are no words I can use to describe it that don't transform themselves into their meanings
that don't take over my mind
crawl through my head like little worms
eating away at my brain
my thoughts
my skin

have you ever thought of a traumatic experience and then felt those events happening again
felt the dark hole of life-threatening-trauma attack your mind
Shiver through your body
like it was a demon you let in through a memory-
through a word

maybe I didn't tell you I was depressed
because I wasn't strong enough
my depression fills me to the brim
fills my head and my chest
my arms and my fingers
I can feel it moving through my body
I can feel it expanding and engulfing everything inside of me
every last vein, nerve, *****, and tissue
how can you expect me to have the energy to fight
how can you expect me to have the energy to pick up the phone
to open my mouth
how can you expect me to have energy-to have the courage to utter the words of how I feel
I feel so worthless
in those moments I feel like there's this black whole inside me and it's consuming everything
it's taking everything but my skin
and it disgusts me

can you imagine the feeling,
having something so utterly repulsive on your skin you had to scrape it off immediately
It felt like you needed to be cleansed
like you needed a shower
take that feeling
now imagine it being under your skin
imagine, every muscle ***** vein nerve every cell in your body underneath your epidermis disgusts you
imagine all you wanted to do was to
GET
IT
OFF
and you can't
no matter how hard you try
you can't scrape it off
you can't claw It off

imagine you're scared of spiders
now imagine you're covered in spiders
and someone's holding down your arms
so you can't get them off
imagine them walking on your skin
in your mouth
crawling on your open eyes
in your ears
you're cringing at your own skin
You can feel them going down your throat
Their disgusting tickle in your stomach
in every crevice of your body
their tunneling under your skin
and you can't get them off
what are you supposed to do
but cry
My best friend's mom who doesn't believe in depression asked why I never told her I was depressed...
I run myself a bath, I put fluffy bubbles and soothing soaps in it, I light candles and turn down the lights, and make sure it's the perfect temperature
To cry in it

I drag myself out of bed, brush my teeth and get dressed, I tediousely organize my room, alphabetical, by colour, I get out my books, I dust the smooth pages
To cry on them

I pick out a fresh shirt, pants, shoes. I tie my hair and dry my face. I put on a nice jacket
Just to soak it with tears

Just to cry

It's seems most of my time these days, is spent on things that stray to sobs
Stray to crying
Dusting off the rabbity
that squirrely tempo anxiety,
closing in with night.

The irresistible pattern
the irrational illogical fight
a battle with one’s discipline,
mirroring our might.

I make it home a fluttering
belly twirled and muttering,
I tell myself tis alright!

The damage done, and everyone,
I’m just like them and millions more
succumbing at the Devil’s door.

And the taste, the burn,
the healing calm,
the shaking and the thinking gone.

Knock one back, slam out another
night is early, rock it brother,
Tying on a swilly swirling
buzzed-out brain and mind a twirling. . .

“Ahhhh…”

I feel better now, exhilarated,
exasperation falls to stout resound;
I pour again and knock it down!

“Ahhhh…”

Spinning now, not to say I’m spun
but choosey choosing several a pun
I see myself an accomplished one!
Yes, that’s it, that is me,
look upon with thoughts of glory
yank open the freezer for glass that’s hoary. . .

How cool am I? certainly not boring
all night I’m here, pouring, pouring. . .

Buzz subsides, thoughts slow too,
lurid leering, slobbering swearing,
****** actions and nothing new?

I lose the bottle,
I lose my shirt,
***** on myself,
pass out in dirt.

Another night of drunken hero,
time that’s wasted for kingly Nero.
But who am I to judge myself?

I’m hardly worse than anyone else?
Nicole Alyssia Aug 2014
Asking me to hide my emotions
Is like asking someone
To hide a gushing wound
When the **** won't close
And the blood won't clot
Easier said than done.
Coming from someone on the outside
Who can't feel the actual pain
And would prefer
Not to see the gore
Or clean up the mess.
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