Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
#derealisation
I don't like mirrors. And it's not because I don't like who looks back at me. I know her eyes, they're mine after all. But those eyes aren't alive. The light never catches them. I know her smile, because I've felt the warmth of another on my lips. But that smile isn't real. I don't think it ever was. I know her hands, because I've felt the weight of the mirror with them. But those hands shake. They always seem to. I know her scars, because I've seen the blood. But those wounds have faded now. They don't bleed anymore. And I know her heart, it aches. It breaks a little more every day. But still she'll look in the mirror and smile. Because a mirror can't reflect the pain she feels. It can only reflect what it sees. That's why I don't like mirrors. They're liars of the prettiest kind.
0
May 10
May 10, 2026 at 10:36 AM UTC
My reflection
it takes me captive, imprisoning me in shackles i can’t shrug off can’t feel my grief can’t taste my rage can’t grasp happiness can’t see anything except nothingness it swallows my feelings whole, absorbing my humanity absorbing my soul into something familiarly unrecognisable
0
Jun 14, 2025
Jun 14, 2025 at 7:43 PM UTC
numbness
Take me to the place I know. The lake that looks cold, where the wind stings your skin. Take me there, away from here. Away from saltine tears and diminishing reality. Take me to the place I think I know. The cliff by the sea, where the waves crash loudly. Take me there, take me anywhere. I don't even know what is reality.
0
Jul 9, 2021
Jul 9, 2021 at 4:55 AM UTC
Framed.
The limp body laid on the floor Motionless Fairy lights outlined the cool form Impossible To move The weight too heavy Crushing The whole world the fairy lights are burning Body and light Will never touch And it stings It already burns But it cannot warm the body Different colours Different brightness Various behaviour Glowing Burning Blinding Fading they will all cease When time comes The scene is romantic - the consequence is not The bright success, expectations Failure The failure is in the middle Nobody talks about its darkness Lights are the hot topic. Society
0
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 5:09 AM UTC
Pressure
Rain befalls the afternoon like a heavy blanket A blanket under which I rest Legs crossed and crossed and crossed Neck curved as a comma, The smallest body you have seen Nothing is mine My arms, my hands, my head The water that falls Lands on nothing that belongs Nothing is ours The sky, the ground, the air Skin becomes wet Skin and water with no owner
0
Dec 23, 2020
Dec 23, 2020 at 7:24 PM UTC
Skin and Water
What is this feeling I can't seem to shake? I know im not dreaming But i dont feel awake I look all around me But nothing feels real My heart keeps on pounding it's all i can feel What is this feeling that steals all my breath? Whatever i do it won't make me fear less I look at the world But it's just one big dream Reality is fading It's not what it seems I call out for help But nobody can hear me The silence within Is all that is near me Im trapped in my mind with no place to go this life is an illusion im all on my own
0
Sep 2, 2020
Sep 2, 2020 at 11:18 PM UTC
"Derealisation"
You say I am obsessed with myself, And the way I look. Point out how I stare at the mirror and focus on every nook And every cranny of my body. But I am not obsessed, I just fear I’m going mad From a terrifying disorder who knows how long I’ve had. I‘m merely mapping out this body I see through this drunk-like haze. Searching for a sign to tell me “this is you” To tell me “this is right” and that there’s no mistake. Pinching myself until I feel something in this dreamlike state. It’s like a never ending nightmare, from which I Cannot Wake. Staring at the mirror at this body Which apparently is mine. No I am not obsessed, I just think I’m going mad, From a terrifying disorder who knows how long I’ve had.
0
Sep 17, 2019
Sep 17, 2019 at 11:24 PM UTC
Not Obsessed, Just Going Mad
Sometimes the emptiness is the heaviest The world feels numb Like my connection to the world has long been disconnected Like fingertips sanded away Nerves sleeping The only taste in my mouth is of the food eaten yesterday. I live in a land of suspension Swimming between worlds that don’t want me Stuck as a nomad a child of purgatory
0
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 11:41 PM UTC
No One From Nowhere
Time moved through me forgetting to carry me with her. And I waited. Like the businessman at Flinders Street Station - stagnant - while the world passed him by, and time moved through him, in fast motion; forgetting to whisper past his cheek and sweep the petals from his eyes. For he carries a garden inside, but all gardens need time.
0
Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 1:58 AM UTC
A Silent Film
This girl Is a construct, Out of a fairytale. She sounds wonderful, Charming Charasmatic to boot. So, why did she leave? Alone, In this shell of a body, This mask of a face, And a voice so disjointed. Out of place Out of time Out of memory Out of love Out of comfort Out of hope Look at all the old photographs, No one could ever be so happy. Burn to feel warm But to no avail. Myself? An unreachable host Look in the mirror See nothing.
0
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 10:57 AM UTC
Nobody (a depersonalisation tale)
"How are you doing today?" ******* horrible, not like you give a **** "Great, and you?" *As if I actually give a **** "I'm great as well, thanks for asking." Are you lying like me? Are you secretly hurting too? "Yeah, no problem." *I want to ******* die.* "Oh dear, you look so tired." Probably the insomnia. Thanks for noticing. "Yeah I haven't been going to bed on time recently." I haven't been feeling too much recently, either. "Aw, a routine is something you need to get into. Going to bed early will make you feel better the next day." They said the same thing about anti-depressants, yet here we are. "Yeah, you're right, I should probably get on top of that." When will this conversation be over When will this conversation be over When will this conversation be over "Well you have a nice day now!" I won't, but thanks for the concern. "You too! Lovely chatting with you!" That just took every last ounce of energy I had left in my body. Oh god I'm so sick I'm so tired I need help I need help I wanna die please someone see through me and help me I need- "Hey! How are you doing today?"
0
Sep 27, 2017
Sep 27, 2017 at 5:51 PM UTC
"How are you doing today?"
It's been 6 days since my head filled with the impenetrable fog 6 days since the hands pulling vinyls from their sleeves to place the needle on top of the grooves to play any distraction available didn't fit my wrists the right way. 6 days since I made the conscious decision to intoxicate my brain to the point of fuzziness and now the side-effects that embody the alcohol can't seem to stop coursing through each individual vein and artery infecting my brain cells with rapid dexterity and a hazy heavy cloud that refuses to clear itself from my eyelids. It's as if my whole body has been violated by a virus that has spread too quickly to identify and now every last nerve ending has ceased to send messages caused by reactions to tangible foreign bodies belonging to the world outside my own physicality. The feet encased inside my shoes are not my own They no longer help me to stand with ease or walk without stumbling I am not here writing this But my weakening limbs have detached themselves from the rest of me and now there are electronic mechanisms and chemical concoctions doing the job my senses have since given up on. I am simply not me. My teeth feel like aggressively inserted slabs of cold enamel constructed without consent behind the pair of lips that are slowly fading every day These are not my nails scraping against the skin I no longer recognise and feel safe inside. I feel like I am floating and everything happening around this body is affecting what it is supposed to But I am the exception. Every single inch of me is now wrong Out of place Unfamiliar and uncomfortable All the physical feelings are now examined down to the most minuscule fragments Heightened to the point that they are now extinct in the realm I still try to call "my" brain. I don't want this. I don't like this. I want the substance that is poisoning me to drain itself from my blood Something that now seems impossible to do. A constant state of surreality in a more literal sense than I could have ever anticipated. I didn't mean for this to happen. I will never be able to identify what it was that flipped the switch labelled: "depersonalise" I can only make mere guesses and vague estimations as to how much longer I will have to spend inside the physical manifestation of a body from which my title of "proud owner" has been stripped. It still comes back sometimes In ebbs and faltering waves. I move my hand to relieve an itch Or follow more tablets with a swallow of water And for a second it doesn't pass through my throat my fingernails miss the bridge of my nose my hands detach I float without meaning to 6 days since the haze appeared I guess I'll keep counting
0
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 12:26 PM UTC
a moment of clarity
It's been 6 days since my head filled with the impenetrable fog 6 days since the hands pulling vinyls from their sleeves to place the needle on top of the grooves to play any distraction available didn't fit my wrists the right way. 6 days since I made the conscious decision to intoxicate my brain to the point of fuzziness and now the side-effects that embody the alcohol can't seem to stop coursing through each individual vein and artery infecting my brain cells with rapid dexterity and a hazy heavy cloud that refuses to clear itself from my eyelids. It's as if my whole body has been violated by a virus that has spread too quickly to identify and now every last nerve ending has ceased to send messages caused by reactions to tangible foreign bodies belonging to the world outside my own physicality. The feet encased inside my shoes are not my own They no longer help me to stand with ease or walk without stumbling I am not here writing this But my weakening limbs have detached themselves from the rest of me and now there are electronic mechanisms and chemical concoctions doing the job my senses have since given up on. I am simply not me. My teeth feel like aggressively inserted slabs of cold enamel constructed without consent behind the pair of lips that are slowly fading every day These are not my nails scraping against the skin I no longer recognise and feel safe inside. I feel like I am floating and everything happening around this body is affecting what it is supposed to But I am the exception. Every single inch of me is now wrong Out of place Unfamiliar and uncomfortable All the physical feelings are now examined down to the most minuscule fragments Heightened to the point that they are now extinct in the realm I still try to call "my" brain. I don't want this. I don't like this. I want the substance that is poisoning me to drain itself from my blood Something that now seems impossible to do. A constant state of surreality in a more literal sense than I could have ever anticipated. I didn't mean for this to happen. I will never be able to identify what it was that flipped the switch labelled: "depersonalise" I can only make mere guesses and vague estimations as to how much longer I will have to spend inside the physical manifestation of a body from which my title of "proud owner" has been stripped. It still comes back sometimes In ebbs and faltering waves. I move my hand to relieve an itch Or follow more tablets with a swallow of water And for a second it doesn't pass through my throat my fingernails miss the bridge of my nose my hands detach I float without meaning to 6 days since the haze appeared I guess I'll keep counting
Continue reading...
45
What else could we do except watch the world around us? How could we voice thoughts we do not know? And Sometimes we just can't cope, Yet we can't bring ourselves to admission. So we fixate on what can never be real, Because it stops and seals us from realisation. We derealised from the world we're supposed to know, Instead we escape to where we can never go.
0
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 6:20 PM UTC
When Derealisation Meets Wonderland
she never said a word the silence was her loudest scream but it couldn't be heard is this life or just a dream am i here and is this real it isn't like it seemed to be -this world might be just not for me
0
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC
The girl who never spoke