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Harri Oct 2018
Look at me.
Tell me what you see.
Dark hair
Blue eyes
Pale skin,
Is that all?
Look again.
Look closer.
Look closer.

Do you see them,
The scars
The bruises
The cracks?
The shadows,
So many shadows.
When I look in the mirror
They're all I can see
But you say that I'm fine,
Am I fine?

Please see me
Please hear me

Can you hear them
On my tongue,
The pleas
The cries
The screams?
They sound so loud
In my head,
And taste so bitter
Always sitting there,
A sodden
choking pill
That I can't swallow,
But can't spit out.

Do you understand?
I just need someone
To see me.
Harri Oct 2018
All I can do is close my eyes,
And hold my breath,
And pray that this is not my life.
That I was switched at birth,
Or switched in time,
Or maybe I just haven’t woken up yet.
That’s it!
It must be!
This is all just a dream,
a nightmare,
This merry go round
Of work and bills and people, oh my!
And the tune that it’s playing
As I spin round and round,
The cracked cadence of a broken music box,
Do this, do that, why aren’t you married yet?
Hey don’t worry,
You just haven’t found the right guy.

It should be so easy,
To dance to their tune.
Everyone else does it…
So why can’t I?
Harri Oct 2018
They say demons should be
They say in the dark lurks
They say in your soul 
should be nothing but
That washed out is better 
than chiaroscuro.
They say all these 
But what do they know,
these people who live in the grey?
My muses are demons
My pen is a knife
My life is much
With black ink in my
I suppose if their minds were to
We'd all be exactly the same;
A world full of demon filled people
With eyes open
Drawing beauty from shade.
Harri Oct 2018
I’m slipping again.
I can hear them.
Whispered admonishments,
Echo in my head…
Louder and louder,
As I feel fuller and fuller,
All my spaces filled with shadows,
And the demons start to creep,
Clawing up my throat
And through the cuts in my skin.
I can’t control the chaos,
My hands are sliding on the reins,
I wish that I could ask for help,
But they won’t let me.

I don’t recognise the face I see,
Staring from the mirror,
It’s pale,
An ill-formed shell,
A weak and cracked container
For this maelstrom,
My hell.

They’re scratching at my skin again,
Make it stop, make it stop.
My bones are breaking through again,
Make it stop.
Harri Oct 2018
“I’m fine.”
“Just tired.”
“oh, sorry, I’ve been busy.”

It’s funny,
isn’t it?
How hard it is to tell the difference
between a smile

and a grimace.

It’s funny,
isn’t it?
How people are so willing
to swallow a lie,
If it’s what they want to hear,

And you’re baring your teeth.
Leah Apr 2018
My brain is not a puzzle piece
Its tangled strings of thought
You are not here to put me back together
I am here to simply untangle myself
Each tangled string is complete and strong
They shine with bright colors of the rainbow
It's truly beautiful

My brain is not that of the ones around me
It is my abstract painting
Placed in a museum with a crowd of young and old
Some say it's not art
And grunt as they walk by
While others jot down ideas
On how to perfect their own piece

My brain is truly and thoroughly my own
My own to shape
And my own to love
Thoughts on my struggle with Aspergers and bipolar disorder
Ashwin Kumar Apr 2018
I had so much faith in you
I thought you would understand
Where others wouldn't
Where my family wouldn't
I was ready to pour my heart into you
To plumb depths
That I had not imagined
I would dive into
Even in my wildest dreams

I had so much faith in you
Because you seemed to know me
Even more than I knew myself
I thought I could trust you
More than I trust myself
But never did I dream
That you would use the trust
As a weapon against me
Driving a wedge
Between my heart, mind and soul
Taking away my means
To fight against this mad world
And leaving me more alone and sad
Than I had been
Before I came to you
Seeking all the answers
Looking for solace
From my own demons
And that of my world
Which had crashed around me

I had so much faith in you
But you took it for granted
The same way love is taken for granted
By almost everyone in this mad country
Where innocents are killed
In the name of love
For the Cow Mother

I had so much faith in you
But you dashed all my hopes
Just like the Big Bad Wolf
Who blew down the houses
Of the Two Little Pigs
In a swift, sweeping breath
Never once did you stop to consider that
I had a mind of my own
To you, I was always an object
An object of your undivided attention
An object that you could portray to the world
As having grown in leaps and bounds
Under your doctoral care
And thus win oodles of accolades
As the object in me prospered
And the human in me withered
Left to fend for myself
Under the watchful eyes
Of the Doctor and the mad world
This is a poem to my therapist, after I had to walk out of an emotionally draining session midway yesterday night.
Annie Ra Jan 2018
I look down at the world below
So high, so hidden
  And so well-read
They smile and laugh
Knowing something that I don’t

Like a dream lost upon waking
It slips through my grasp
I feel it, sense it
Yet the memory fades
  Into daylight

The mask I wear hides my eyes
A part I play, a song I sing
Words I recognize
  But cannot comprehend

While I peer from my lofty prison
Imperious, impervious
I discover I am not above, but down below
Waiting and longing
  To walk free
Annie Ra Jan 2018
Your voice envelops me
  Drowns me
   Blinds me
     Confines me
Your whisper is fog
I feel it echo
   In my bones
    In my blood
     In my head
I gasp for air
   For light
Until the silence comes
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