Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Emilio May 2016
**** happened;
The stillness of the night,
The ****** ****** life.
Everything happened
because it happened
No ***** and **** the
Sometimes, you just have to do it.
Emily Chambers Apr 2016
My heart's not what it used to be
My heart feels something strange
Something goes and makes it flutter
Not necessarily in a good way

My heart is like a little kid
My heart likes to play around
Something goes and makes it skip and jump
Not a game I like to feel

My heart doesn't like me much
My heart throws temper tantrums
Something goes and makes it close on me
Not very nice to know

But my heart is my heart
It might be a little unwell
But it is mine
And I think I'm getting used to it
I just recently found out I have a heart murmur, and it just happened to start really acting up. But I'm coming to terms with what I have to do to keep it from hurting, and working really hard to stay healthy.
Tahirih Manoo Nov 2015
Why is it that whenever I am not well

                                                           ­                 I tend to reflect on my life,

                                   How i treat others

It's as if I not only want to get better from the illness

                                                        ­       but need to be better in general.

Is Tahirih today not good enough?    :(

Silly fever, illnesses are for mortals, so why you trouble me so?
The tiniest sickness, has me regretting that one mean word I said last week.

perhaps it was way more than just one word.....perhaps.

7:17pm , 8th. November, 2015.
Nina Feb 2015
It's not surprising that it was so easy for you to leave someone as ****** up as I am
Because my mind is a sea of monsters too dark and too primeval to ever be tamed
And they hide their faces in the day
But in the night my mind plays ***** dark tricks and I scream and thrash and I can understand how hard that would be on someone like you
Someone who defeated the darkness that used to terrorize them, and now lives as the king of their mind.
You were ****** up too once.
You woke up cold and sweaty with a screaming heart because your daddy left and you couldn't figure out why and you took six painkillers before Spanish one day and walked in high as **** and got expelled.
But nobody would guess that from your cookie cutter ties and polished shoes and phenomenal ******* eye contact when you shake a man's hand,
Nobody could ever imagine that when you got too drunk you'd grab my *** and throw me on the kitchen counter and bite my neck and your hands would explore places they shouldn't.
Because you hid yourself from the crowds and the daylight and the church congregation,
And when you stand behind me in line for communion I can hear your breathing and the hairs on my back stand up, but remember, my dear, when your nails would map lines down my back?
Oh **** am I ****** up.
And I warned you from the start that I was, that messing with me would only ***** up my broken mind again and again, my mind that's held together with yards of duck tape and the piece of gum we shared on our third date so your parents couldn't smell the whiskey on our breath.
I told you I was a mess, and you said you understood, but the minute my mind started to unravel in your lap you ran away as fast as you could.
I get it.
Sheenanigans Jan 2015
The doctor said it just need a rest and med
But how come its all over my head?
Now all I can find is my bed*
And no, I don't want tears to shed*

8:17 pm, 1-16-2015
(first poem to post this 2015)
My head is aching. I really should need painkiller. Unwell (not oneself). Should fall asleep before I'll fall apart.
Hayleigh Apr 2014
Your unwell she says
With a look of dismay
I'm fine I insist
Tho the slits on my wrist
Suggest otherwise

Your weight is dangerously low
She tells me
I tell her, my weight is fine
As i disagree
And so commonly as we do
We agree to disagree
But to what degree was
I willing to sink
Before I reached the brink
The breaking point
You need to be here she reminds me
I reply quietly
That this place is for the sick
And me, I am fit.
I am the picture of health
I speak
Tho the weakness in my voice
Suggests quite the opposite
So in silence we sit
And wait
And the clock it ticks
As the minutes pass by
It's okay to cry
She reassuringly speaks
And slowly but surely
Those minutes pass into hours, days and weeks.
And I start to open up my eyes a little
Perhaps even start to realise
That maybe she was right and I was wrong
That maybe that self defeating song
I'd played over in my mind
Had started to unwind me from
The real me, from reality.
That maybe I wasn't quite the person I thought I had been
And that maybe those seems I'd sown
To protect myself
Had actually served in destroying my
Physical and emotional health
Currently in hospital for my anorexia, have been for two months. This is a little something I wrote up after a meeting with my key worker..

— The End —