Into this world world will come,
Very precious souls.
Who will not fit
Into your cookie cutter molds.
To your ideals,
You try to make them hold.
And never realize,
They may be,
The purest form of gold
I wrote this when I watched the staff in a "mental" ward openly laugh and make fun of someone who was challenged when they attempted to make him the same as almost everyone else.I don't conform either and was quite upset by their actions and treatment of this individual. I simply say that they are "differently enabled" than others and staff would have used resourse myuch better to find what the person was good at instead of forcing them to comply and making fun.
I have a few more days
In this prison cell
That they call
A hospital ward
Too long has it been
Since I have tasted freedom
I now feel like
I'm on a bed of roses
Feeling my skin
Getting ripped apart
Bit by little bit
It bleeds over the thorns
Soaking into the petals
Staining the white buds red
Dripping down to the floor
And making a pool of crimson
Waiting with anxiety
Hoping to be free
To roam around once again
To walk amongst the living
To cast out my shadow
And inhale the fresh air
With my toes in the sand
But that seems like hopeful wishing
And maybe it is
But that is my wish
For a perfect vacation
I remember the supervised showers
The crushed ice
The cries at night
The feeling of losing control
The idea that earbuds with the right twist and ties could make me die
The sewn on pillowcases
The weapon in scissors, mirrors, handles, sheets, bedposts, bags, shampoo, straps, glass, pens
The boy who’s anorexia was his slow suicide
The girl with two siblings that killed themselves
How everyone wanted to **** themself
The 7-year-old that only cried
The lime green hallways that haunt my mind
Found this poem from a year ago
Death's flowing scroll
Aweing as you misstep,falling
In a loop which,once surpassed,
Is encompassed with laughter.
You both scream in unison,so bitter
It causes the trees in the glen
To bend and whimper—
Flickering back in time for a moment:
Snakebones traced from inside the walls
Slithering malady for countless centuries;
Shedding it's calloused flakes from time to time...
What is that which the starshine overhead emulates?
Is it whiteblood or mere rain? lo,mere dust
Thrown throughout the black sky.
Death guides you to the brim of the cliff.
He is uniformed in your old clothes,brandishing eery whispers
By the flick of his tongue. 'Scream now
And you will scream for an eternity.'
Might delete soon but nonetheless. Inspired by two very underrated creative geniuses of the 20th century
Lyn Ward paid his due in influencing the graphic novel with his wordless novels -specifically, Gods' Man, which's ending this scene is based on-
And George Macbeth might be the best Scottish poet and one of the best experimental poets of the 20th century. He was fairly popular in his time but for whatever reason has fallen into obscurity as of late.
Lose a tire? Tires,
they come and go.
Do you have a grip?
The wheel works, but,
what's the point
if the blue sparks fly?
Some words stuck
well inside this
sternum of mine
just need be said.
What's the point of
you and I, then?
Are we always safe?
What's the point of
this fear of life
when I'll soon be
nothing more than dead?
Hold your eyes, then,
til the heart arrives.
Sparks cannot fill
me up inside with dread.
As I wake
I mistake the sirens as my name
The wail telling me to come
That I’ve got lost again and I need to follow them home
Home as in the straight jacket hospital
Home as in you belong here
Home as in basically GSA
Your mind is the only sharp thing in sight
And the rope once noose tying you down
The beautiful girl with the raven hair.
A sleeve of pain she doesn’t remember.
A past of stolen innocence and growing up too fast.
A life of raising her sisters but losing her daughter, because money doesn’t grow on trees and 22 weeks was all the time she could get.
A heart of gold but a facade of steel, too scared to let anyone back in.
A soul that rages of fire, power, and more grit than anyone I’ve met.
A future that my heart wishes for her more than she will ever know.
She will get everything she desires.
Her sobriety will be the medal around her neck.
Her life will be the trophy she won back.
And her beautiful children will be the emblem of strength that let them be born.
I just got back from a psychiatric care unit and the people I’ve met have changed me forever.
i miss the psych ward
left with only
not being able
to be hurt by
i could find
out in the real world
instead of hiding away
in these locked away rooms
i don't wanna leave
lock me in a building
a room, if you will
padded ****-me walls
to terrorize my mind
and, most importantly,
and i wonder
are psychotic girls a good ****
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