Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Caro Feb 7
I want to smoke something
And I want to be touched
I am tired of moving and doing
I want to lay down and explore
And sway on someone
Who’s body can support mine
I want to share a laugh with a peer
I want to exist in space
With someone
Has my anxiety been high lately? I wonder
I wonder if something is wrong with me
The little scared child comes from behind the screen
Tears brim in her eyes
And she wonders if she did something wrong
“No” I tell her
As I wrap her in my arms
Put on sweet music
And dance around
“You have never done anything wrong in your life”
And everything becomes okay
And I can lay here
Touch my sternum
And breathe
Jade Oct 2023
Sometimes,
I get so angry, I want
to tear open my skin.

Who needs anger management
when you can give yourself
a bloodletting instead?

I want to annotate my wrists
with the names of every person
who ever hurt me--
part the Red Sea with steel.

And I'm pretty sure a phlebotomy
is the closest I'll ever get to a lobotomy
(or an exorcism).

My trauma (my fury) is a toddler
throwing a tantrum in the middle
of the dairy aisle in the supermarket.

I pluck this child--
feral and snivelling--
from my veins and throw
her over my shoulder.

I don't know where her screaming ends
and where mine begins.

Sometimes, I think all she really wants
is a hug.
Louise Sep 2023
If little me comes to me
running and asking for help,
I know that I will hold her near
carry her, run faster away from hell
and tell her, "for you I would do anything"
If you're at a place or point in your life wherein you think you hate everythingㅡyou hate yourself, your life, your face, your body... I hope you'll think of the little you. Think about how bright their smiles are, how loud they belt out a laugh. How you are their big sibling, their idol, their hero now. Think about how you'll do anything for them, even loving yourself again.
Kaka Jun 2023
You did well 🧡


When they said you weren’t pretty, you didn’t believe them.
You did well.

When they said you had a mean heart, you didn’t believe them.
You did well.

When they said you brought bad luck, you didn’t believe them.
You did well.

When they said you couldn’t do well in a bigger city, you didn’t believe them.
You did well.

When they said it’d be hard for you to find a partner, you didn’t believe them.
You did well.

When they showered you with all the negatives, you filtered it all - only listened to your heart.

You never turned sour.
You did well.

When it seemed like all the doors were shut & there was no way out. You stubborn child - you still didn’t believe it.
You did well.

All that noise, all that dirt & like a lotus, you bloomed through it.
My love, you did so effing well!

I am so proud of you ❤
You did well
Odd Odyssey Poet Jun 2022
'Life is but a dream,' I question the value of it;
at the edge of life, the edge of time, the edge of our reality;
at the edge of this cliff, we edge ourselves to a falling death.
But what if the fall to our death is like a dream—falling into
a hole, gaining speed close to it's undersurface? We'd wake
up before we hit the ground.

But would I wake up in a cold sweat; or in tears, of longing to
find what lies in the somber of a deep hole? Maybe my soul?
Haha; it's outline must of been shaped by the mind's many dreams,
my child. For what good was it; in the spirit ties of it being lost in the world?  A world at times that doesn't feel as real:
but just a life of a dream.

So by this edge, clutched by the winds of background; hold your
breath before you and I jump. Time may, or may not slow in the
plunge to the valley's undersurface. Still perhaps, this all could be
a dream, and we'll both wake up before we hit the bottom.

Surely it must be, because I don't know a reality to be as brave
to commit such an act. Why pinch yourself, when you've been
pinched by pillars of salt in life—sourness and bitterness?

Oh my inner child, life is but a dream:
and soon we'll both wake up from it.
Bella Isaacs Jun 2022
They all ask me what I want to be after uni
It's no longer when I grow up, though how
Any can consider me so is beyond me
When I still jump onto the low fences like a cat
And traverse them in my absurd boots with barely a bow
When no one is looking, and everyone is watching, what
A fool and a spectacle I make of myself, I care little for
Until I come home, and realise I may have overplayed the clown -
But what was I made for, if not to hang upside down,
And call the world right side up that way? I implore and ignore
You, and you can heed me, or try to read me,
But you'll always need me.
Sometimes, it's best I admit to myself that I'm still 5 years old.
She calls and cries,
But there are only echoes
Bouncing on the walls
Of my empty chest.

She is forgotten.
She gets pushed aside.

𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥?

.

▪︎ mica light ▪︎
Saudade, (n.): the longing to be near someone or some thing that is distant.
Hiding. She's
Trying. I keep her
Confined.

Sleeping. She's
Weeping. She screams out her
Cries.

Falling. She's
Calling. There's pain in her
Eyes.

Dormant. She's
Latent. She feels
Paralyzed.

Shifting. She's
Drifting. But I keep her
Inside.

Uneasy. She's
Queasy. Yet I
Minimize.

Refracted. She's
Lasted. She cant be
Denied.

Bleeding. She's
Seeking. To be
Recognized.

Unwitting. I'm
Splitting. I say my
Goodbyes.

Heating. It's
Fleeting. My old peace of
Mind.

Conquered. I'm
Anchored. I'm treading
Neck-high.

Drowning. Heart
Pounding. My sight going
Blind.

Vehement. Not
Present. I am losing my
Pride.

Engaging. I'm
Raging. She's loud from
Inside.

Neurotic. I'm
seasick. From pain left
Behind.

Messy. We're
Heavy. There's blood on our
Lies.

Damage. I
Manage. This fall from up
High.

Numbness. Crave
Oneness. This banal state,
Mine.

Transgressing. Keep
shedding. And I'll find her
Smile.

Uplifting. Deep
Thinking. I tame what is
Wild.

           Releasing and healing
                     My own inner-child.

      
☼ Mica Light
Sometimes she comes gently. Sometimes she comes with force.

Vehement: marked by extreme intensity of emotions or convictions; inclined to react violently; fervid
Banal: obvious and dull; repeated too often; overfamiliar through overuse
Splitting: a commonly used defense mechanism for people with BPD that is done subconsciously in an attempt to protect against intense negative feelings such as loneliness, abandonment and isolation; sees in 'black and white'; no 'grey area'
MG Sep 2021
To the little girl who grew up too fast:
Who had her childhood taken away from her too young.
Who never knew what innocence was.
Who desperately searched for love in all the wrong places.
Who was afraid to show her heart, but desperately wanted it to be seen.
Who craved validation from men, most who didn’t care to know her name.
Who drank until the world went black.
Who hurt people, because she was hurting her self.
So full of angst.

I can still see her now- clearly.
She lives inside me.
I can find her standing at her favorite beach.
Listening to the angry waves crash.
It’s night and she’s always crying, but silently.
Salt water sprays her face as salty tears run down it.
Staring at the ocean, gazing at the moon.
Desperate for a glimpse of hope.
Here she’s able to feel all the things she has kept inside—
Safely.

To the little girl who grew up too fast:
Who knew pain so young.
Who only wanted the love of her mother,
But looked for it in all the wrong places.
Who made choices to hurt herself, because she saw no value in herself.
Just know, I love you.
Even when you’re difficult to love.
I wouldn’t be me without you.
An ode to my teenage self
Next page