Here I am, struggling through the battle of life,
Fighting the monsters that live inside me.
I’m tired — I want to give up, I want to run.
But their ****** laughter still echoes in my head.
Every wound they gave still bleeds, the pain still fresh.
Something inside whispers, “Let go,” but now I see—
It was never me. It was their curse that clung to me.

Here I am, waging wars I was never meant to fight,
Bleeding from wounds I should never have carried.
The pain still knocks me down, again and again.
I escaped their grip the first time I spread my wings—
But why did I have to flee?
When my angels left, I had no one left to turn to.
My cries for help were drowned by the devil’s laughter.
I watched my angels bow to the dark — and hope abandoned me.

Here I am, looking back at the wreckage of my path,
Their voices still echo, loud in my mind.
All the pain, all the memories fuel this rage—
My heart, twisted, filled with hate.
My broken mind hates the one I love,
And loves the ones I wish I didn’t.
So I built a fortress around my heart,
Forged in hate, it shields me from life.

Now I’m alone—surrounded, but alone.
I want to break free.
But now I realize…
I have become my own captor.
And escape feels impossible.

But still, I’ll try.
I’ll keep going.
Because I can’t give up now.

Red was my loved ones,
Orange my crazy ones,
Yellow my own self wonder.

Green was my choices,
Blue was my non-positive voices,
Blue my own self ponder.

But when mixed together,
Brown is the new found better, of dead dreams and feelings gone to waste.

So be unlike me,
Find who you truly see, and maybe,
Just maybe, you won't end on both knees.

Lying? Crying? Overall inquiring?
I liked myself but I loved you!
Now every breath gets questioned, perception?

Am I seeing the truth?
The heartache, anger!
You were my anchor, keeping me down on this earth.

But now my learning equals self preserving.
By questioning my own self worth.
But one thing to remember,
Even after our adventure.

It's my fault that I ever loved you.

They cheered for them—
moms with cameras, dads with proud eyes—
I stood alone,
four medals in my hands,
three gold, one silver,
like they meant something.

I ran fast today.
I always do.
People say it’s talent.
My stepmom says
it’s because I like running from my problems.
She laughs when she says it.

She doesn’t know—
I run
because when I run,
the pain stays behind
for a while.

No blades.
No pills.
Just breath and burning legs
and the sound of my heart
trying to beat louder than the thoughts.

I crossed every line first
but still came last
in the only race that mattered—
the one where someone waits
at the end.

Sometimes I wonder
what it would feel like
to look into the crowd
and see someone who looks like love.
To have someone call my name
like it meant home.
I wish I had that kind of family—
the kind you don’t have to earn.

I wish I could cry, but I feel no tears.
I wish I could try—just slowly speak my mind clear.
I wish I didn’t have to explain myself every time I feel fear.
I believed those who know me would understand—
but that was a failure.

Here I am, sitting in quiet despair,
while a stranger understands my dilemma—
and no words were exchanged there.
                                                                   -Asher Graves

Mania feels good when it battles the sadness, gives me the strength to get off of this mattress

My hair gets a wash and my make up gets done, I can giggle and laugh and look forward to fun

What project to do? How can I change my room? Maybe I'll cut my hair or get a new tattoo

Shopping! That'll be fun, need some new outfits to wear in the sun, or even the moon
I'm feeling manic I won't be sleeping anytime soon

Wait now- slow down
I need to process
I need to feel these feelings, not go on a distracting side quest

But my thoughts are poems and my legs are restless
Maybe one distraction won't hurt, maybe it'll pull me out of this mess

My hair is unruly,
I don't like my teeth.
I haven't seen my debit card
in three ******* weeks.

If I'm not early,
I'll be ******* late.
"Just be on time"—
my brain doesn't work that way.

I did three loads of laundry,
yet have four to fold.
I planned to make a salad
but the lettuce has mold.

The lettuce has mold?
The lettuce has mold.
I swear I just bought it,
I didn't think it was old.

What day is it?
Do you know the time?
I can't find my keys
but I'm thinking in rhymes.

Did you tell me the date?
I'm sorry—I forget.
I'm sure that you did.
I just haven’t remembered it yet.

A mile a minute
is how my mind goes.
Do you want to rearrange the living room?
Should we go to Lowe’s?

These boxes I found
haven’t been opened in ages.
I found an old journal
and sped through the pages.

I should throw it away
but I think I might keep it.
It’s treasured this way,
and no one learns my secrets.

I’m sorry I’m on a tangent,
did we have plans?
I’m sorry to abandon,
I live in my head man

I’ve got so much to do,
I couldn’t possibly go out.
Have you seen my bathroom?
I must clean the grout.

You can stay if you want,
in fact, I’d like that very much,
if you don’t mind my gibberish
and constant running amuck.

We wander, frantic in the marketplace of promises,
hands clutching at the glittering vials of salvation.
“Here, this magic pill,” they say,
“will mend the cracks, seal the void,
and silence the ache that hums in your chest.”

We swallow hope, bitter and sweet,
but the emptiness echoes louder still,
a hollow drumbeat of yearning we cannot quiet.
The years slip through our fingers like sand,
each grain a moment spent chasing illusions.

We bow to the idols of quick fixes,
blindfolded by the shine of their certainty.
Yet, the pain whispers in the silence,
a persistent reminder of truths uncounted,
of shadows we refuse to face.
The hole in our hearts grows no smaller,
no elixir, no mantra, no fleeting promise can fill it.

He handed it to me when I was 25,
with a Cheshire cat smile,
knowing it wasn't my team,
and liking it all the better for it.
I wore it,
reluctantly,
the Kelly green of it a traffic cone
warning others not to get too close
brim worn thin
on the edges
where he was always
making sure it sat
...just.
right.
until the shamrocks stitched to the side
could no longer mask the shackles
I tore it off
set it ablaze in the front yard
and let my soft ginger curls
fly free in the breeze,
finally mine again.