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Matt Jun 23
I wake up.
But I don’t really wake up, do I?
The bed feels like it’s holding me down—
like I’m trapped inside my own skin.
I think about moving,
but my body’s too tired to listen.
My bones ache.
My mind aches.
And I’m still here.
Stuck.

I run my hands through my hair,
but nothing changes.
The noise in my head keeps getting louder,
like it’s trying to drown me.
Every thought is a weight,
every breath a struggle.
I’m suffocating in a room full of air.

The world keeps moving.
People keep laughing,
but it’s like I’m behind a glass,
just watching—
always watching,
never a part of it.
I can’t reach it.
I can’t reach them.
I can’t reach myself.

Some days, I fake it.
I paint a smile on my face,
tell everyone, “I’m fine.”
But it’s a lie.
A lie I tell so often,
I don’t know how to stop.
The emptiness inside me is too big,
too loud,
but I don’t know how to say it,
so I say nothing.
I hide it behind a smile,
and hope no one sees
how broken I really am.

Other days, I don’t even try.
I don’t have the strength to pretend anymore.
The world feels too far away,
and I’m too tired to care.
Too tired to fight.
Too tired to get out of bed.
Too tired to even keep breathing.
I don’t know how to keep going when
everything feels so heavy,
so pointless,
so wrong.

The light fades—
it’s been fading for a while now.
I don’t remember when it stopped shining,
but I can feel the darkness creeping in.
It wraps around me like a second skin,
and I don’t know how to take it off.
I want to scream.
I want to shout,
but my voice feels broken.
It’s like I’m invisible,
like no one can hear me,
and the silence is deafening.

Everything is dark,
and I’m still here,
fighting to breathe,
fighting to feel anything at all,
but nothing changes.
And I don’t know how much longer I can stay here—
in this emptiness,
in this darkness.
I don’t know how to move,
but I don’t know how to stay still either.
I’m just... here.

It doesn’t ask for permission.
It doesn’t wait for the “right” time.
One moment, I’m fine—
laughing, talking,
doing what I’m supposed to do.
Then the wave hits,
and everything falls apart.
Suddenly,
I’m drowning in my own head.

Sitting with friends—
I’m laughing,
I’m talking,
but inside,
I’m screaming.
I’m so far away from them,
and they don’t even know.
I can’t hear their voices anymore.
I can’t even hear myself.
I’m just stuck—
alone in a room full of people.

At school,
it’s worse.
I try to focus on the words,
on the lessons,
but it’s like they’re not even real.
The paper in front of me is blank,
my thoughts are blank,
and my mind is a million miles away.
Everything spins,
and I can’t stop it.
The walls are closing in.
My chest feels tight.
But I’m still here.
I can’t move.
I can’t breathe.

Sitting at my desk,
the homework’s impossible.
The words blur.
The numbers make no sense.
I want to throw it all away,
but I can’t.
I want to scream,
but I can’t.
I want to run,
but my legs don’t work.
It’s like I’m stuck in cement,
and the whole world is just passing me by.

Sometimes it hits in the middle of a conversation.
I’m talking,
laughing,
but none of it matters.
The words sound empty.
The sounds are hollow.
I just want to disappear.
I just want to walk away,
but I can’t.
I can’t leave.
I can’t do anything.

It hits without warning—
at random,
and it hits hard.
One minute, I’m breathing.
The next, I’m sinking,
drowning in a darkness that has no name.
And I don’t know how to make it stop.
I don’t know how to breathe again.
I don’t know how to live
when every moment feels like I’m dying.
It is very hard for me to leave bed on days when my episodes hit. Many of those days, poetry is the only thing I spend my time participating in from waking up until I go to sleep.
Manya Saxena Jan 2016
With the sunlight on my face,
All the walls surrounding me; opaque,
The outside world completely efface,
I found myself, now awake.
The fortress of my captivity,
Keeping me alive but still,
The fortress of my incompetency,
The last of me it killed.
The pleasure it tingled,
Cannot be replaced,
Still I wish to run away,
To the land outside these gates,
All the gold I have,
Is nothing but metal,
All the joy I need,
Is not for what I’ve settled,
This fortress of my solitude,
Forever screaming the pains it felt,
This fortress of my extinction.
With me, dying many deaths.
Curtains in this room,
Stopped speaking now,
Left their bodies here,
And heart outside the realm, astound.
It’s marvellous how miserable I am,
With all the wonders at my foot,
The jewels, the pleasures,
Even so,
I’d love to take all my plans and scram.
The palace of illusion,
I am living in,
Has given me more than I ever deserved,
Yet the feeling of me belonging in the field,
Is something I’ve always preserved .
The fortress of my hopelessness,
Falling down now,
With the reign of my lord changing,
In front of an unknown king we bow,
Thrown out of this boundary,
Helplessness prevails,
But the joy it brought me,
I set a new sail.
For life has always been,
Catastrophic,
Dreadful it seemed,
It felt worthwhile now,
Alas! It is just a dream.
Katherine Sep 2014
I smell you on my skin
       and I think about the rose garden
and how every flower was different,
     beautiful
           I wanted every one of them,
but darling roses are only for looks
           don't try to pluck them
                                they will only ***** tiny holes
into your fingers
            and draw blood from your veins
darling don't touch me,
          I will only put holes in your heart
and draw tears from your eyes
         I am the beautiful roses in the garden.
               Don't pick me.

— The End —