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Crystal Sep 2019
You say I am obsessed with myself,
And the way I look.
Point out how I stare at the mirror and focus on every nook
And every cranny of my body.
But I am not obsessed, I just fear I’m going mad
From a terrifying disorder who knows how long I’ve had.
I‘m merely mapping out this body I see through this drunk-like haze.
Searching for a sign to tell me “this is you”
To tell me “this is right” and that there’s no mistake.
Pinching myself until I feel something in this dreamlike state.
It’s like a never ending nightmare, from which I
Staring at the mirror at this body
Which apparently is mine.
No I am not obsessed,
I just think I’m going mad,
From a terrifying disorder who knows how long I’ve had.
This is a poem about struggling with depersonalisation/derealisation. These disorders can cause a person to feel like the are going mad due to a feeling of detachment from reality.
Ackerrman Aug 2019
I am wearing a ***** shirt,
It is crumpled and twice worn before
On days when laughter echoed the halls
Of aorta and vena cava,
But the sound curdled and went stale
As entropy ran through veins,
As my name rang in your ear,
The animosity grew in your cold stare.

I am wearing odd socks.
I haven’t found a partner,
Nor do I understand the use
Of matching two things the same.
If I were in love with the mirror
Then I should just wear one sock,
Let my sock’s noose sink into my supple skin
And slowly cut my ankle.

I haven’t washed my tie
In the entire time I have owned it,
Or the time it has owned me,
I feel the ***** cotton, wrapped
Tight around my neck-
Binding my words,
Suffocating my suffixes,
And the most heavenly of words have bruises…

The whitest of silken beds,
Was marred with blood
Before it was clad in armour,
Now nothing can harm her.

Nothing gets in..

The covers are not warm
And nobody sleeps there.

Less of a bed now,
Thinks defensively, now.
The colour begins to fade.

Ethereal façade

I don’t leave my door open anymore,
Darkness crept in
And I don’t dare let it out.
I have grown fond of the colour,
Or lack of it.
Personal pronouns-
The more I use the word ‘I’,
The less fond I become of it.
"Everything's going so fast, it's all in such high gear. Sometimes it doesn't feel like me. It's as if none of it really happened. As if nothing were real anymore"
shauna-leigh Nov 2018
It’s gotten worse this week.
It’s usually bearable,
I feel like i’m constantly floating.
Nothing around me is real.
Figments of my imagination.
Puppets in a show of my dreams.
However, my dreams are reality.
They are not dreams at all.
Not in the slightest.
Sorry. I haven’t posted in a while. I’ve not really had anything to write about but this was something that was playing on my mind. I hope you like it. Sorry
Lux Falls Aug 2018
Sometimes the emptiness is the heaviest
The world feels numb
Like my connection to the world has long been disconnected
Like fingertips sanded away
Nerves sleeping
The only taste in my mouth is of the food eaten yesterday.

I live in a land of suspension
Swimming between worlds that don’t want me
Stuck as a nomad
a child of purgatory
bitterlemonchild Aug 2018
I feel very depersonalised when I talk about the past
Certain things that happened feel like they didn't to me
And I was just a bystander to all the chaos
And when people ask me what happened
In my mind I open up a book
And turn it back to that factual page
And recite these lines that I wrote
To make it make sense
But I think I've read those pages so much
It doesn't mean anything to me anymore
I'm done playing hide and seek with my thoughts
Maybe if I went back to the old house
I'd go back to drawing on walls
Becoming cold
But for now
I'll hold
Onto the part
Of me that knows
I'll never be that helpless or stuck
and though things might remind me
Or take me back a few pages
right now I'm numb
But I can't tell if it's
A healthy forget
or a suppressed anthem
bitterlemonchild Jul 2018
It doesn't  matter if it's good
It doesn't matter if it's sad
It doesnt matter if it doesn't even quite reach your hands

It doesnt matter if you're mean
It doesnt matter if you're nice
They'll always think that's it's just you trying to break the ice

It doesn't mean anything new
It doesn't feel anything fresh
It doesn't make me feel a long
Loud thud in my chest

It doesn't make me feel mad
It doesn't make me want to cry
It doesn't make me want to party a lot like I'm high

It makes me want to disappear
It makes me want to float away
It makes me want to wish
I'd dream of something better someday

It makes me want to stop my thoughts
It makes me want to dive right in
It makes me wish I had some control
Or is that still a sin?

Yes I know I'm being selfish
The theory of mind
I'll never fully comprehend the truths that you see in your eyes

But all I know is I pretend
Because I have to now and then
Because it makes me seem difficult or abstract to them

At first it was for a job
Then it was for my friends
But honestly there isn't ever a place that it will end

I don't want to make you feel sad
I know you're feeling kind of lonely
Or maybe you are just using me
To climb the social hierarchy slowly

How did it even end up here
Can I just throw this all away
When I've made a mark
And started saying everything I've always wanted to say

But is nobody listening
If it's coming from me?
Is this just like another
Way to learn to people please?

But does god only listen
If your down on your knees?
Does a child only matter
When they can't stop their screams?

People please, just do your research,
It's strange what you don't know
It's strange that you can pack up all your things and just go home

It's strange that I think I'm stranger
It's strange that I am right.
It's strange that I can tell they're intimidated just with their eyes

It's strange when I cannot feel
It's strange when I feel real
It's strange when strangers smile and pass me by, say hi to me

and I am really shocked
The lack of all the fear
But I can tell when people think my skin colour is weird

I feel I'm fading fast
And time is really slow
I just want to be able to see
Everything flow
My Mind - is not My own.

It is the sleepless nights,
the empty stares,
the half-hearted comments
the quickening breaths.

It is the clouded days,
the fizzling thoughts
the fear that is constant

My Mind - it is not.
Illya Oz Apr 2018
The the words whizzing around my head,
A swarm of bees around my ears,
So loud I can't think,
I'm sorry what did you say?
Sometimes I'm silently freaking out in the middle of a conversation and if feels like I can't concentrate on anything or hear what anyone is saying.
Gil Mar 2018
caio quando fecho os olhos

não sei o acontecerá quando aterrar.
não vejo o fundo deste buraco imenso, mas também não o temo.
aliás, anseio-o.

tenho a cabeça crua.

já não sei se caio para o chão ou do chao,
ou para cima.
posso cair de diversas maneiras e faço-as todas ao mesmo tempo.

sou um só com o buraco ***** que me engole.
talvez até seja eu a engoli-lo.
vou ficar com uma indigestão.

quando penso que vou parar, escorrego mais fundo para o
estômago do vazio e o vazio desce-me pelo esófago.

se fechar os olhos adormeço ou acordo? vou tentar.
zh Nov 2017
I feel nothing
maybe I feel a cloud that only rains in my presence but
I really feel nothing

Sometimes I see myself
in the googles of someone else who is far
very far,
watching me on a screen
and whenever I start to feel
I can feel someone else overriding
my control of myself
I am pushed to the very backseat
despite calling shotgun.

I feel nothing
except for Zeus' anger
at the ***** of my feet
in the form of volcanic lava
bubbling and toiling
as it overrides the meniscus boundary
but now
I am here
I am here
in my car in the driver's seat
I don't have to call shotgun
because my unconscious
yes, mine
my unconscious is all mine
and now,
I have never felt more alive.

But the lava always cools and resides,
despite the internal temperature,
solidifying only to be melted again
and I am where I belong
I am right in the backseat.
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