I once felt like words gave me power
Like they gave my quiet shell of a self a leg to stand on
Now I feel like I have none left to speak, to write
I've been drained of verbs and left broken -- immobile
My adjectives fall soft and simple, even the deaf don't pretend to hear
Being so far removed from the one you called yourself
I don't know what there is left for me to say
It's like being a young musician on stage
And people have slowly stopped cheering as they realized
You have no more tunes left to play
Yet I've stood frozen, stuck, despite myself
I'm waiting for them to come back
The self that I used to know
That I thought I did know
I haven't a clue to where they've left, to where they'll go
But I hope that they find it
The messages they seek
I can no longer provide them
My inkwell bone dry
My spirit missing it's former vibrance, now dully meek
They once called me wicked
I thought it ironically sweet
That for someone so bitter
Many worshiped me
It's been a while, I think, since you all got a nice wordy note from me.
I've been writing poetry for...8? 9? years now... And I've gotta say, I legit cannot tell if I've gotten better or worse. I used to write because I was ****** at life, or violently angry with myself, or if I wanted to do bad things. I don't feel like that anymore. Pretty much never. I've survived some ****, but now (all things considered at least) I'm starting to thrive a bit. When I was at my height of popularity on this site, or at least what my very ****** up and disillusioned perceptions gathered to be the height of it, I was sick. I was having regular dissociative episodes, was severely depressed, engaging in self harm in a variety of forms nearly daily, and very suicidal. If anyone is going through some ****, please seek help, and hold on. I promise it gets better. But yeah. When I was very aggressively using this site as an outlet, I amassed a good sized follower count and trended almost daily. The only poem I ever had make daily poem (which btw was toward the beginning of my worst downward spiral ever) was about hanging myself. Like what the **** lol. But if I helped people -- or even just one someone somewhere -- feel less alone, then I'm glad. But ever since I had started to get better I got less attention here. Which is kinda a weird feeling. I'm not sure if it's cause my writing started to **** or if I got less 'interesting' for lack of a better term, or maybe a mix. Or maybe it's all the changes this site has had over the past 4 years since I joined. Either way, it's weird... I feel like I don't know how to keep writing or improve... Idk, I'm just kinda...
stuck. ...This has been a stream of consciousness.
Anyway, I love you all. And in a special way those of you who have left this world for another. I will never forget you.