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Empire Apr 2019
I was dying
Losing my mind
Killing my body
And it lasted so long
I forgot how to be alive

I spent so much time
In that awful place
I made it my home
I hated it, but it was mine
Until I escaped

From a surge of bravery
I got out
And everything got
So much better
Way too quickly

But then it started to fade
The excitement wore away
I started to remember
What dying felt like
And I needed to mourn

So here I am
In this place in between
Not dying anymore
But not euphoric either
I am just here

I don't know how to mourn
When no one else can see
That I'm hurting
Because I'm not dying
I'm fine, but not quite

Haunted by memories
Of what I was
I wander through these days
Wishing I could escape
This place in between
But in a way, I like this place I've found. I now know, though, that I can make a home for myself in the worst of places. I just don't know what this is.
Empire Apr 2019
It would seem
That I spend
Many of these days
Out of phase
With reality

It’s like I’m standing
In a room of people
I know and love
And they’re strangers
So am I

My hands don’t feel my own
I don’t feel what I expect
Sometimes I’m just dizzy
With thoughts
Like reality is moving
Swirling around me
And I’m elsewhere

Sometimes I’m just out of phase
With the world
But I keep coming back
And I’m not always sure why
Sometimes I have to leave this reality to avoid being crushed by it.
Caitlin Apr 2019
Don't forget to take your medicine.
Sometimes,
its pills that have the serotonin
that our brain forgot to make.
But sometimes,
our medicine
is hot showers after a good cry.
Sometimes,
its remembering that there are dogs that haven't been pet yet.
Sometimes,
it waking up early in the morning
and drinking a cup of hot coco
while sitting in the quiet.
Sometimes,
its putting on a robe
that just came out of the dryer.
So yeah.
Don't forget to take your medicine.
Sara I Raad Apr 2019
There are struggles in your eyes

Tell me who caused them

Sara I. Raad
Sara I Raad Apr 2019
Abandoned houses sit across the city,
People drive past them
Just looking at them up and down.
I just wonder sometimes,
How much life used to be in those houses?
Often, I think, we do the same with people
They’re beaten down and tormented
Losing control of their image
Because their mind is consumed by a disease
That spreads rapidly, poisoning any good thought
Of themselves in their head.
Depression.
Appearances mislead

Sara I. Raad
BD Apr 2019
They came expected,
But oh so unexpected,
Dusk stalking blue skies and sun,
A small patch; barely infected,
Just a few weeks and they’ll be gone,
Just a few weeks and they’ll be gone,

The naivety of my youth allowed me to forgive them,
But time has passed,
They have been feeding,
Infesting,
Like mould in a damp corner,
I ‘must be handling them wrong’,
A new product promised to do wonders,
To my ears an angel’s song,
Just a few weeks and they’ll be gone,

And yet a few turned to a family,
Beneath the diet, the exercise, the routines, the gallons of water, the research,
I could hear Lucifer laughing,
Like that one person at my school,
That was a year ago,
And yet they and Lucifer still laugh at me,
Through murky panes and pictures,
Just a few weeks and they’ll be gone,

Every day they disappear more,
I tell myself I’ve won,
Yet old pictures show me it’s an illusion,
Surely they’ll end for summer’s fun,
Just a few weeks and they’ll be gone,

I now greet my friend the mirror,
Between everything I do,
He tells me it’s getting clearer,
His story’s must be true,
Just a few weeks and they’ll be gone,

I am a fool to my own deceit,
For the naked eye of me the whole world,
Can see these demons,
These scarlet brandings,
And every glimpse I catch in my friend the mirror,
In the reflections of a stranger’s wondering eye,
The voice in my head says ‘why me’
That’s all that it’s come to,
There is no more light in this night that has consumed me,
So all that is left,
Is echoes,
‘Why me’

But they won’t be here for long,
Just a few weeks and they’ll be gone.
Empire Apr 2019
Something within is festering
A mighty storm of rage
Swirling, twirling
Making me ill
It fills me with an
Unending angst
I think I know where it's from
But I have no idea
How to rid myself of it
If I am honest
It's made a home within me
I nurture it with darkness
Feeding it the parts of myself
I don't want others to see
We have a sort of agreement, now
In return for keeping it alive
It reminds me that I am too
It makes my heart race with passion
It makes me dizzy with ideas
That I couldn't possibly act out
I'm sure it's dangerous
But now we're symbiotic
And it's convincing me
I can't live without it
I know it's parasitic, but sometimes you just don't want to resist.
Kilano Saddler Apr 2019
She is made of all things gold

not jewels or metals
or trinkets and desires– no.
She is made of all things gold
all things that shine
of glass circumstance
and desperate foil–
she is made of all things

gold and grand and dark
like human hearts.
All things gold, all things
left to wait and tarnish
valued by butterflies
as they land gently upon
edges of broken promises.

All things good may never pray
but all things gold are made
of these moments, made of
tears and laughter
and flooding sunlight.
She is made with all things gold

not because she knows
but because she loves
and cries and says she’s okay
when truly, truly–
she isn’t.
She is made of all things gold
even when the gold is faded.
Even when the gold
was never really gold
to begin with.

She is made of all things brilliant.
She is made of all things gold.
A poem for all women who are suffering.
Disha Bhatia Apr 2019
Do you remember me,
I ask.
You refute
And call my name
Again and yet again.

I answer every call,
engaged it says,
rings a bell, somewhere far
where my voice
isn't familiar anymore.

I knock on the door
No ones home, you say
I wonder why
In an abandoned wreck
Do you wish to stay.

As I try to remember
the pass code to you
I see
the door's open
Locks broken
And still i can't reach you.

I enter
to see you chained
by your own hands
I reach out
Only to find
you lost.

I try to unchain you
but the touch of me
makes you flinch
more than the chains do.

If I was certain of anything
it was that I'm me.
If you were certain of anything
it was that I'm not.

I know you'll come back,
You always do.
Till then, I'll stand beside the door
calling for myself too.
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