I open my eyes and
see that the day has given me
a dull grey attitude again because of
the depression that I hide
from within, a smile to go along with it
to avoid the questions that people ask
that always seem to hurt.

These scars that hide behind
my long-sleeved shirts or the sleeves
of my jacket, are the marks of when
I couldn't handle life anymore.
Yet, I am always persistent, even if I am
already hopeless, worthless and pained.
I still hold on even if I've been doing that for long.

I am a soldier who fights my demons alone.
A battle with a pre-determined winner yet,
I should try to manage not to lose.
I wear a mask to hide the tears that
I always shed every second of the day.
And, even if I always fight back,
the monster that fights me, always comes back.

Her mind constantly plotted against her
Made her believe things that eventually resulted in self destruct
She never understood why… and how could she?
How is one supposed to understand the feeling to have your own mind eating you from the inside, trying to ruin and destroy everything you’re trying to build. To have yourself as the archenemy. To have yourself not giving you a chance to live. To have your own mind telling you that you are not worthy nor deserve to walk on this earth
She can’t trust herself, she therefore can’t trust anyone

“Aren’t we supposed to be in the same team?” She asked her mind
You see, depression doesn’t know what he is
Doesn’t know that he is a sickness, a disease
To him, he is just looking for a place to stay, for a home
And the only way for him to find a home is to invade and create civil wars
Depression has no problem going into a war zone with no weapons
Because he is a strong enough of a weapon himself
He has been into many wars, and won countless battles
You see, the odds are usually in his favor
So depression has no problem going into a war

Sit patiently beside me while I dig through the shredded skins of my past selves, as I dig through the madness these scars hold, find and pull myself, brutally and with all the struggle of a world war, out of this black hole. Because once I come out of that black hole, I can discover the wonders of space; it’s stars, nebulae and the beauty of standing underneath the moon with you. Just let me save myself first.


©Noelle Marie

that there are merchants of darkness and merchants of light
you run into them every day
sometimes
the merchants of darkness scream louder
and we voluntarily reach out our hands to absorb the darkness
because we are afraid
but merchants of darkness have no power
they cannot hurt us unless we are willing to hurt ourselves
unless we reach out our hands and deliberately take what they offer

merchants of light are quieter and softer
but the more light we absorb
the better we will be able to face those who give off darkness and say
"that is your darkness, not mine.
take it to God, not me.
i only absorb light."

Does he see your scars as battle wounds?
Does he understand the war being fought?
How your mind is fighting with itself
And both sides are losing.

Does he understand the days you get out of bed
Are battles won?
Does he know the nights you lie awake
Are battles lost?
How each day is a struggle to prepare your army?
And some days they just don't want to fight.

Does he tell you he'll fight the war with you?
Does he help heal the wounds?
When he holds you I hope it brings a white flag.
I hope his kisses are surrender.

I am from Home.

I am from hot baths in the summer and winter alike.
I am from a silver ring decked with a ruby.
I am from laughing faces and weeping hearts.

From Pilaf and Tabuleh.
From the lonely, and the love.
I am from music loud in my ears so I don't have to listen to anyone.
I am from late-night arguments and early-morning apologies.

I am from cousins and children
Staying in my home despite
Their heritage.
I am from Untitled Documents.
I am from Marisa and Ben. My namesake and her lover.

I am from hand-washing dishes.
From Mrs. Laird and Mrs. Tans.
From Eagle Crest.

I am from Volleyball.
From late practices
And broken limbs.

I am from the world.
From crushing decisions that don't matter.
From school-induced insomnia.

I am from the wind
In my hair.
Stars above my head.
Children in my classroom.

I am from England-so far away, and yet so near.
I am from Doctor Who and Sherlock.
My inspirations.

I am from Sobahn.
My friend I have never seen.

I am from swinging into the lake from a tire swing and a zip-line.
Dogs.
Stray cats.
Army games.

I am from fake battles and singing hymns in the shade of the hot summer day.
I am from Christian and Kira.
From red paint on the pavement-lying to me, telling me it is blood.

I am from my childhood.
I wish I could go back there.

I am from home.

Can I ask you a question?
Are you sure that you’re ok?

Are you sure you’re not fighting a battle,
that goes on day by day?

Your answer always seems to be the same,
“I’m telling you, I’m fine”

Always followed by the same sentence,
“Can you not see that my life is full of sunshine?”

I try to believe you,
I swear I do

But deep down under,
I can’t help but question if it’s really true.

I see you in the the hallways,
always laughing with your friends

Do they even seem to realize,
That you are one step closer to causing your own end?

I can’t help but worry,
I can’t help but think

If all the **** that you deal with,
Makes you feel like life stinks.

Everyone calls you a hero,
Everyone calls you their idol

Do they ever stop and think,
That you might be suicidal?

No. Of course they don’t,
Because you always put on a show

You tell yourself that you’ll do what it takes,
to ensure that they’ll never know.

You know that you can’t hide forever,
But that doesn’t stop you from trying.

You never had the choice to not be the strong one,
But that doesn’t keep you from crying.

It’s okay my child,
All will be good.

You say that you don’t believe me,
But I knew you never would.

You walk around,
Always showing your happy face

You try so hard not to show your flaws,
The ones you desperately try to erase

For years now,
It’s always been the same

Trying to keep your chin up,
Not trying to show the shame

I tell you that it’s okay to let go,
You tell yourself it’s not

You say that this is what you deserve,
That this on yourself you’ve brought

I tell you once, I tell you twice,
That this is not the way it is

You look the other way and whisper under your breath,
“This is my problem. Not yours nor his.”

I tried to be there for you,
Giving you a shoulder on which to cry

But you always turned the other way,
Always asking why, why, why?

The simplest of questions,
That you are still to answer honest

Has the power to make you feel uneasy,
It makes you feel the smallest

I will try not once, not twice,
But as many times as it takes

To get you to reveal yourself,
To get you to ease on the brakes

So once again,
I’ll try to say

Are you sure you’re alright?
Are you sure you’re okay?