Pacing the dark hallway as the red and blue lights outside my house get closer, I can hear the sirens screaming louder than the voices in my head - I look down at my hands, red - I really killed him.. The smell of copper floods my nose faster than the tears form in my eyes. The front door slams open, yelling.. So much yelling, not just from the police, but from the voices that I can’t do anything about.. They told me to do this, I didn’t do it.


The voices are louder than the world could ever be.
I have to listen to them scream.

All day and all night, I get no break, and no sleep.
Makes you crazy, you know? Makes you feel like a creep.

Physiatrists prescribe meds, Therapists say that I'm *******.
I know I'm not crazy, just ill, and it's not my fault. I was abused.

I can scream back, and whine about it but they won't go away.
No, those ******* voices are here to stay.

I pace around, adoring each flower.
I’m not nervous. I just have bipolar.
I’m tapping my fingers for ten hours.  
I’m not restless. I just have bipolar.

I wake up four times during the nighttime.
My heartbeat flies out of my very chest.
Awake. It’s been hours since watching crime!
Alive. I begin prepping for a test.

My words bounce back around the four drywalls.
Like a child, thoughts scamper through my mind.
Abruptly I laugh. Then I start to bawl.
My emotions begin to intertwine.

I make mindless plans with seven people.
I say something out of pocket to Van.
Now I try to use a tattoo needle.
****! I just tossed and broke my only fan.

a feeling of numbness

suffering from a disease

too invisible for the eyes to see

a parasitic disease

in which its host

is unable to escape

the confines of this mind

no matter how hard they try

a precious body with a functioning heart and brain

but unable to use them to your gain

a body that never experiences happiness

an abnormal brain given by a God

who apparently conducts experiments on his children

a lingering heaviness in my mind

impossible to be removed

urges that I don't want

every day, hour, minute, second

always in a battle with your own mind

nobody there for you to confide

in


for i just want to be normal.

and then i realized
only medication or temporary rushes from substances would relieve the pain
the pain of living,
the suffocation of being trapped in a body i feel like i don't belong in
the never ending cycle of anxiety

and so i cried
and i cried so hard until i couldn't breathe
knowing there would never truly be an escape to this thing called life

pouring all the water in the glass, till the glass starts spilling out everywhere
this happens every time she drinks from it
she's fully aware of it, but allows it to keep spilling
wetting her shirt, the floor, and the table
drops on her skin racing to the floor, trying to beat gravity

meanwhile they were in front, watching all of it
wondering why she isn't doing anything to stop it
second-hand embarrassment is what they felt
for the fact that she can't simply drink a glass of water without spilling it all
"what a mess" they thought

nobody wanted to be around that girl
"stupid" and "strange" are words that were used to describe her
because at such an older age, how can she not drink a glass of water?
how can she not control herself?
how does she not think about how uncomfortable it is for others to watch?

she knew what was happening, but continued to let it happen
she watched as everyone judged her, but still kept on going
is it inconsideration or self sabotage?
she wanted to see if they would see past that
but in the end, she realized that was what she was defined as

I used to think I would never fall in love
But after him all I do is fall in love
Over and over
But I never let anyone feel secure enough to love me back.

I fall in love again and again and again
In silent torture

I am so sick that I feel
I am so sick that I hear
I am so sick that I smell
Sick of the patented experience

I am so insane I can read books
I am so insane I can converse
I am so insane I can see
Insane because of pseudoscience

I am mentally ill because of what I hear
I am mentally ill because of what I write
I am mentally ill because of what I see
Mentally ill because of segregation & isolation

I am mad because of audio software
I am mad because of video software
I am mad because of editing software
Mad because of channels & mixers in a studio

We are sane because of witnesses
We are sane because of kindness
We are sane because of love
Sane because of strangers

daddy didn't love her did he
mommy didn't love her either did she
she was used to it though

seasons change and time went by
she realized she wasn't used to it
she realized her soul was rotting away

nobody likes to be caught in a storm
nobody wants to drown in the ocean
so they always left her before she ****** them in

a broken little girl wasn't she
a broken girl who would never be able to feel love
since everyone who realized she was broken left

i was told i overwhelmed you
i overshared my problems
the art of self sabotage is quite interesting isn't it

i was too much for you to handle
guess i wasn't good enough
this pathetic cycle of thinking returned once again

i shouldn't let a silly boy determine my worth
my confidence wavers now though
now i question everything, all because you left

i now spend every night
picking at my every flaw
and hating myself for it, wishing i could change