"disorder" poems
Why go back
when you can move forward?
I face this question
each day I breathe.
It's not always so easy
to answer.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
Keeps me looking back
to my past
behind my shoulder.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
Usually associated
with our war heroes.
The ones who can't leave
the battlefield behind.
I am not one of them.
I am just
an anxious
a depressed
in pain
person.
But I can't help
that I have it.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
My battlefield
was the school,
the classrooms,
the playground.
The babysitter,
the dark closets,
the dark rooms,
the basement.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
The anxiety
the migraines
the depression
the fibro
no sleep.
All lead back
to square one.
The abuse
by my peers
by my teachers
by my babysitter.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
Four easy letters
Four simple words
Lifetime in pain
from those simple things
from those not so simple things.
P
T
S
D
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 12:12 AM UTC
Polite
Typical
Smiley
Daughter
Pointlessly
Trusting
School
District
Professor
Turns-blind-eye
Struggling
Drastically
Packets
Turn-to
Stacks
Deficient
Panic Attacks
Turn-to
Self
Destruction
Pulling
Teeth
Sick
Design
Plans
To
Stop
Discussing
Peace
To-her
Silence
Disturbs
People
Talked
She
Distracted
Passed
The
Snacks-to
Dinners
Pulled
The
Same
Dimensions
Pre-K
Then
Smaller
Didn't
Pause
Third-Grade
So
Dead
Parents
Though
She
Drowned
Piled
Thoughts
Suffocated-her
Dexterity
Patient
There
Suffering
Depression
Problems
To-many-to
Score
Dispute
Progress
That
Shockingly
Developed
Potentially
Taken-away-the
Suffering
Dramatically
Poor
Tiny
Sweet
Doll
Part
Traumatized
Sleep
Deprived
Phobic
though
Sixth grade
Doesn't
Play
Though
Six-Years-of
Death
Until... The little girl, learned she had,
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
and, school treating her badly is only one of her three traumatizing events.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 7:59 PM UTC
Anxiety is not stress.
Anxiety is not some umbrella term you can use to describe how you feel when your favorite character in a book is in an intense battle unless you can somehow feel how fast their heart is beating until you can feel how hot their blood is until you can feel what it’s like to be that character in that situation the weight of the world on your shoulders
Anxiety is not finding lighting candles to be the only solution, candles are another problem. Another long paragraph to your list of “Things That Can Easily **** Me” example: “I didn’t leave any matches out, did I? I blew out the candle right? I need to check. Do I smell burning?? PUT THE CAP WHEN IT’S DONE! Will set off my fire alarm? Does my fire alarm work? Where’s my fire alarm??? Where’s somewhere I can put it so it doesn’t hurt me. THIS IS OK THIS IS NORMAL THIS IS RELAXATION.”
Anxiety is not stress.
Anxiety is horrible flashing images, constant reminders, the most negative form of “what if” imaginable.
Anxiety is wasting all your time thinking about an 8 page paper due for class in a week but instead of bringing yourself to writing it you are sobbing on the floor thinking of how bad for your grade this will be.
Anxiety is having a crush on a girl and trying out makeup for the first time.
Anxiety is having a crush on a guy and wondering if your sense of humor is funny enough.
Anxiety is not stress.
Anxiety is downloading an app that checks on your health and leaves you wondering how long this has been going on for.
Anxiety is wondering how to fix your eating disorder instead of actually fixing it
Anxiety is outing yourself to fit in
Anxiety is always wearing pants because you’re too afraid of your own scars
Anxiety is staying up countless nights crying crying crying you cannot yell your thoughts are no longer your own
Anxiety is writing a list of pros and cons to killing yourself
Anxiety is lighting a candle so you can slowly burn the list because
Anxiety is telling you if someone finds out, you will die.
Anxiety is not stress.
Anxiety is having making a friend and losing them in less than a year
Anxiety is wondering if all this help is helping or do I need to help myself
Anxiety is your friends questioning you non-stop are they really questioning you or do you question yourself?
Anxiety is memorizing the suicide prevention hotline
Anxiety is beating yourself up countless times “How could you forget something as simple as a Birthday?!”
Anxiety is “I only have three friends and one hates me, one I’m trying not to lose, and the other I love too much to tell the truth”
Anxiety is “It’s only a matter of time before we all die!”
Anxiety is “Congratulations! Two of your friends have died this year alone! One ******* hates you! Oh! HAHA! Wait! They all ******* hate you!”
Anxiety can turn you from “Wow. I look kinda good today.” to ”DYSPHORIA! DYSPHORIA! DYSPHORIA!”
JUST ******* KIDDING!
ANXIETY IS STRESS!
AND MUCH
MUCH
MORE!!!!!!!!
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 3:50 PM UTC
Borderline personality disorder Unseen people unseen energies tickling my back Distrust paranoia Longing for love unwilling to accept Dreaming of self harm of boys in all black Who am I to you Trust no one not even your best friend especially not them Avert your eyes don’t look at me I don’t see you I hear things that aren’t there I hear things they whisper my name want me to follow Casual *** casually falling in love Relapse around the corner need to see my blood I smell blood I taste it Close my eyes move to music become a ghost Crying in my bedroom crying in public No one sees I am invisible Think horrible things think about killing A certainty that I will end up alone This sounds like a suicide note Want to be art want to be in the ground burned to ash Who AM I ********** daily In love with love In love with being on my own I can’t belong to anyone I want to belong to someone Can’t be a girlfriend can’t be a best friend Can’t lose me that’s all I have in the end I sound ******* nuts Borderline personality Don’t smile Won’t smile Bitterness bitterness Too afraid to hang myself Punch myself in the face Spit on me Respect me Degrade me Take me away take me in What the **** is wrong with me
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 12:08 AM UTC
Somedays my thoughts shriek so loud that
they congest the rest of my mind
other days they chant lullaby's as if nothing
traumatic has ever happened
one moment i'm up
the next im crumbling to my knees
one or the other its consistent drowning with
no one to rescue me
I'm keen on telling myself its all in my head
at times, but
doctors tell me its all me
but for gods sake do they realize what horrid
phrases the voices scream?
death would be so heavenly
I long for the passing of sides
im awaiting to go home where its all
white and peaceful
i have days where im so narcissistic; I swear
I can commence the world as if every millisecond is
a luxury of sighs and sounds
at moments my dispute comes out so rapid
all i get is crooked looks and mumbles
some days, I love him
other times I swear he's the devil in disguise
during my manic episodes you spoke soft as if I
was a fallen angle that was overflowing with life.
You had mentioned a world that disculded me was a
world you cannot exist in
You said I influenced your heart to skip beats, that I
saved you, I was your fresh air
Once he witnessed myself during a dreadful episode
you declared loving me was exhausting and space
is what you desired for
hell could i control this?
he was the one isolated concept I could ever make
my ******* mind up about
I loved him;
I love him
he said that his devotion to me was similar to
staring into a black hole but seeing the reflection of the delicate sunset
it never made sense to him
BUT HELL DID IT MAKE SENSE TO ME?
when he stranded me, i couldn't help but dissolve in tears
i was nowhere adjacent to happy
but that's all I've ever comprehended
my doctor says they've observed a change
maybe its the sleepless weeks and collection of mood stabilizers
consuming pills in hopes to not feel so ******* empty
anticipating on my next manic episode
waiting for the door to open to go home
If I have learned anything from living with BPD
it is im constantly dilapidated upon everything
one day soon I hope to recover from this disorder
that replicates a loud room without recognizing how loud it was
and all I hear is the ringing in my ears that doesn't seem to have an end
some day this will be over
some day my lover will stay
I pray to fall in love with another angel again
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 2:27 PM UTC
The distant park
Was a graveyard of dead stars.
Each streetlight a system of worlds,
So many lives between each mote of light,
Indistinguishable in their unique love,
Bespoke hate, and the drama of the modern age.
Drunk laughter behind transparent
Double doors. Another hotel balcony,
Another cloud behind the canopy
Of marijuana eyes
To unsettle me from the crowd.
She points out, when you look closely
You can see the disorder
Amongst all constellations
Of life and love and litter;
Of discarded Coke cans
And temporary highs.
She says this is not a scene
To imbue the ****** of a present mind,
More to baulk at the incompletion
Of one thousand to-do lists;
A million reasons why
You should just stay inside.
She says you can see the human swell
Of ignorance, our city lights
Blotting out the stars
In a black ocean of broken politic
And irretrievable fault lines-
Divisions between us all.
Lives twisted with professional smiles
And eyes lit with stunning indifference.
Still, I have felt charity and warmth
On the doorstep of lunatics and fascists.
I have read the love of life
In faces of those who gave up.
I have recounted countless artists
Who saw beauty
In moments that precisely lacked it.
I have spent too many nights
In anaesthesia,
Fleeing each instance of feeling
And terror; all the tremors
That tell me I am still alive.
Continued to stare at the lights
Long after her voice
And the laughter inside had gone.
Heard waves in the traffic.
A world so large, so expansive,
It can never truly sleep.
Every broken heart,
Every war-torn land,
Every promotion,
Every one-night stand.
I wonder what would happen
If we all stood still.
If we all took one moment
To observe the motion
That unfolds beneath
Our static windowsill.
If we all took one moment
To recover our loss.
The wars that we won,
The feelings, forgot.
The hell we retain;
Our paradise, lost.
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 11:07 AM UTC
I am quick to cry and to anger
and people think I'm strange.
They don't see how hard I try to control it,
I know I'm seen as deranged.
Emotions can be overbearing
and it's difficult to stay quiet
when someone upsets me
It's simply not easy to hide it.
I guessed for a long time that the issue was with me.
But I thought I could watch maybe learn their technique.
For keeping a cool head when things get heated.
Instead of losing it over nothing and feeling totally defeated.
I was wrong it turned out.
I don't have breaks I have border as in
borderline personality disorder.
I got a diagnosis
and was incredibly afraid
that people would treat me like someone
who'd contracted the plague.
While I wasn't right,
I wasn't totally wrong,
mental illness is unfortunately
still mostly ignored.
If I was unwell with a headache,
people would ask
'Are you okay?'
'Here I've got Panadol Actifast.'
But when the ills
In the mind and I say
'I'm feeling down'
9 times out of 10 people get freaked out.
So it's tough when you're shamed
For having a disorder
A lot of normal people suffer
So could your son or daughter.
So next time you hear someone say
'I'm feeling down.'
Do me one favour
and please,
just don't freak out.
It's hard enough already dealing
with this day to day
without having friends
turn their backs and walk away.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
I am BPD.
I am the demon that possesses your mind,
I am the ghost of all you want to leave behind.
I am the monster that will make you unstable,
The voice in your head making you suicidal.
I am your heart making your emotions intense,
I am your mind, muddled and making no sense.
I am your brain making you neurotic,
With the perfect balance of a handful of psychotic.
I am your self-esteem making you feel worthless,
I will make sure you feel that you have no purpose.
I am your impulsiveness making you act reckless;
Your need to harm yourself is becoming endless.
I am your soul feeling neglected,
You feel it very deeply because you need to be protected.
I am your extreme paranoia,
Making you live in a shell, I’m a merciless destroyer.
I am your fear of rejection, you will outburst at the slightest disaffection.
So, I am BPD and I will ruin your life,
I will cover you in scars made by the blade of a knife.
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 4:03 PM UTC
I’m sick of hearing my life’s a haiku.
I’m into magic, love, and other sorts of things that are typically voodoo.
I’m half ***** from a half assed absent African baby boomer brat.
I’m half white trash.
Here’s a well formed of dried tears turned into something to sooth my canine teeth.
It tastes like Moonshine.
I can’t swim anymore, so I’m here drowning in a concrete pool.
Always, I look for the hell in you.
I sharpen my boot knife for ****** assault protection.
The first swipes for the plus 200,000 in counting.
The seconds for the 66 percent underreported.
The lasts for me,
the 29 percent victims aged 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, and 12.
We have a higher rate of risking everything.
For depression x3.
For committing suicide x4.
For post traumatic stress disorder x6.
For alcohol abuse x13.
For drug abuse x26.
You all think I’m crazy,
I’m not.
I sometimes get called
stupid, ugly, ***** and thot.
I’m in pain, in sorrow.
I can’t help it.
He did it.
No one can undo it.
What do we do about it?
I wont scream, I won't cry.
I’ll ask how he’s doing with glitter and tears in the corner of my eye.
And after he's done molesting me,
"Want to go grab some coffee or tea?"
Personally, I like the cafe down the street.
They sell good brunch with amazing croissants.
And after this is over,
I’d ask him how it was while he turned me over.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 12:11 PM UTC
"Right here," [points at heart] "you're dead."
"And right here," [points at head] "you're twisted."
Borderline personality disorder.
A curse.
I am alone, empty, freezing, starving, withering.
I am sorry.
Always sorry.
Sorry to so many.
I am doomed.
I am alone.
I am twisted.
I am desperate.
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 12:30 AM UTC
My Bipolar Disorder is a stout-bodied mammal with horns and cloven hooves.
There are two types of My Bipolar Disorder:
Domestic, and Mountain.
My Bipolar disorder typically spends its days grazing on grasses
My Bipolar Disorder will dig depressions in the ground to sleep, rest, and bathe in.
My Bipolar disorder is super social during the winter, and tends to go solo during the summer.
My Bipolar Disorders tail usually points up! (Unless it is frightened or sick)
My Bipolar Disorder is extremely Curious and Intelligent.
Once My bipolar disorder has discovered a weakness in its fence, it will exploit it repeatedly.
There are over 300 distinct breeds of My Bipolar Disorder.
Within' minutes of being born, my Bipolar Disorder is up and walking around.
My bipolar disorder used to live in the white house with Abraham Lincoln.
One day an ethiopian Herder walked in on My Bipolar Disorder liteally bouncing off of cliff walls because it just Discovered Coffee.
My Bipolar Disorder has four stomachs
The horns of My Bipolar Disorder are typically removed to reduce injury to humans.
My Bipolar disorder will explore anything new or unfamiliar in its surroundings, mainly with its mouth and tongue.
My bipolar disorder readily reverts to the wild if given the opportunity.
My Bipolar Disorder is more susceptible to Parasites and other infectious diseases when it is mismanaged.
My bipolar disorder has had a lingering connection with Satanism and pagan religions
My Bipolar Disorder is considered a "clean" animal by jewish dietary laws.
According to Zeus
As long as you leave it's bones whole,
My Bipolar disorder will keep coming back to life.
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 1:19 PM UTC
a girlfriend came in
built me a bed
scrubbed and waxed the kitchen floor
scrubbed the walls
vacuumed
cleaned the toilet
the bathtub
scrubbed the bathroom floor
and cut my toenails and
my hair.
then
all on the same day
the plumber came and fixed the kitchen faucet
and the toilet
and the gas man fixed the heater
and the phone man fixed the phone.
noe I sit in all this perfection.
it is quiet.
I have broken off with all 3 of my girlfriends.
I felt better when everything was in
disorder.
it will take me some months to get back to normal:
I can't even find a roach to commune with.
I have lost my rythm.
I can't sleep.
I can't eat.
I have been robbed of
my filth.
16.8k
Before
I leave
Please know I
Only
Loved you when I
Absolutely knew
Reality was long gone
Don't believe
In much
Since you left
Or how to cry
Really it's just too
Difficult to
Even
Recognize your face
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 6:53 PM UTC
But is it really such a crime?
Avoidance, that is.
I wouldn't call it isolation,
nor anti-social behavior.
Perhaps I just enjoy the quiet
and the decrease in anxiety
a bit more
than mindless chatter
and having to worry about everything I say.
Please, darling,understand this one thing.
I'll avoid people quite often until my last breath.
Only under this circumstance shall I function semi-correctly.
(d.d.b)
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 7:25 PM UTC
Borderline Personality Disorder.
1. The other day I woke up and thought I knew who I was
I fell asleep and somewhere in between I lost myself
I lost the feeling in my stomach too
but we're still talking about how much we have in common.
2. My sweater got stuck on the hanger this morning
I started to rip it down
eventually I broke plastic and skin.
I haven't been back in my room since.
3. 12:06 PM Today my best friend came home and took most of our makeup
12:07 PM I messaged her and mocked our friendship.
12:07 PM She was in trouble with her grandma and had to hurry. She didn't know.
12:08 PM I broke down crying.
4. I woke up at 7:32 AM and took 4 shots
drank 2 beers
smoked four bowls
drank half a bottle of NyQuil and woke up the next day.
I have yet to figure out why.
5. I wanted to be a horse trainer for 9 years
then I decided I wanted to be an artist
worked on becoming a tattoo artist
matured into a writer
fell in love with photography
now I'm not even sure if I like school.
6. First scars appeared at 9
worst scars at 15.
First attempt at 10
almost wasn't an attempt at 14.
7. I've been happy the past few days
but I still want to **** myself
because soon I'll be drowning in depression
and succumbing to anxiety.
9. Once I got so bored
I thought myself into sorrow.
I didn't come out for a few hours
but by dinner I was laughing.
10. I used to be in love with a boy
but I didn't know
so I used whatever I could get
and now I'm alone.
I don't blame him.
11. I've mentally lost myself
as I screamed into the mirror
and it wasn't me talking to myself.
I don't really remember being there
but I was.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 5:50 AM UTC
How would you feel if you had someone else in your head?
Another personality that could take over at any minute.
Anyone with DID can tell you that it's not easy.
DID stands for Dissociate Identity Disorder.
This is where a person has more than one personality.
It's caused by trauma that has happened in their lives.
Mostly from childhood to in their teens.
People with DID have "alters".
Alters are the other personalities that come out.
If you only have one, then it is known as Split Personality.
It's actually very interesting and there are signs for it.
Like having black outs and not remembering parts of a day.
Speech and movement become different, along with wardrobe.
And then the personality itself changes, likes and dislikes.
No person with DID is the same.
Everyone has different amounts and different lives.
The only thing that's the same is that they have it.
So if someone goes from being normal to being different.
First see if they are just trying something new.
But if the way they speak and act aren't right.
Then you need to know that something might be wrong.
So if someone says that they have Multiple Personalities.
Or just a Split Personality.
Don't run away and don't call them liars.
Because they are still people and they need their friends.
Besides, once you get to know and understand them.
Then things will seem alright.
It won't seem normal, but it'll be fine.
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 10:37 AM UTC
S • Skin tight, skeletal cage
both ribs and mind.
K • Keep a strict diet, never break it, always hide it from those who would disapprove, so I learned to suffered in silence.
I • Internally a growl would emit, I reveled in the power I would get from it. To know I was structured, I wasnt a jumbled mess. Like the mass jiggling, clingling to this withering carcass.
N • Never could the fat girl come back out. carve her, choke her, starve her till she lost the will to shout. Shout for help, shout for freedom, shout for love in this life. Useless, everybody knows only fit people have that right.
N • Nobody would believe if I told a soul my struggle. "You are huge, big blue
whale how can someone like you have a disorder?
Y• Yell, scream "I WANT TO BE ME"
But I can't because of our society
deeming people like me are wrong,
why should my weight define wether or not I belong?
But because it does I hate myself.
I live this life with a wish to die,
all because my body is not
S•K•I•N•N•Y
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 9:34 PM UTC
This little man that I know with money in his sockets and routine in his pockets has self proclaimed that he is a tight *** When I envision a *** such as this, I imagine a bundle -- of securely aggregated, perfectly sharpened number two pencils. The businessman just shy of adulthood and too tired to remember –even the beginning of his of disclosure, denied his struggle to acclimate a multifarious lifestyle, appropriately suggested in the form of a triangle, and a circle, both of which embody polar opposing adaptations of humanistic routine.
The two shapes: The circle, denies the break in motion by imposing a constant cycle of diligent compression, there is no room for pause only steady flow and relentless drive. This influence of life impression slows down the heart, body, and soul while speeding up time. This particular commitment accommodates the dry colorless beings that embrace and accept boxed imprisonment.
Traditionally, the triangle denotes rhythmic patterns that elevate and drop to a point in which imposes a healthy reflective pause: progression, reflection, balance. As stated, as a provincial approach, a regular triangle flat on its base, peaking at the top represents a healthy, solid life routine. In contrast, the triangle can be flipped upside-down introducing an entirely new dynamic, composed of flat-lined monotony, tapered off to a regressed realm of destruction, regret and disorder. Despite the uniqueness of the standard triangle model to the man in question, it is important to compare the negative reflection, for it applies to the entirety of this investigation.
We used to be lovers, he and I. We shared my giant pillow-top that I bought on the black market for a meager two-hundred fifty. -- A mere steal at that rate.
We occasionally exchanged ideas, mainly about ethical concerns related to globalization and the environment.
I attempted to give him a cooking lesson once, but that failed, indefinitely. The bust was not my doing, but simply, a great disinterest on his part; or better yet an inability of not being better than me at something.
Everything has gotten so crowded.
Jan 18, 2010
Jan 18, 2010 at 1:17 AM UTC
Too long this rot has run its course, too much the damage done
When men deflect acknowledged glance, they know that wrong has won.
Across this land and far afield the wrongness seeps within
And pride becomes a memory through distant halls of spin.
How can we bow to tyranny, how can we shy away
From that which causes eyes to slide.... and coaxes will to sway?
To tolerate the bombast, the bullying, the lies
Succumbing to a hopelessness, which, both we despise.
Division in the nation, uproar in between
A man and wife’s contention-ness beyond what should be seen
Brothers loathing brothers, silence in the room
Where a word uttered wrongly can erupt to screaming soon.
Allies left in tatters, trust is cut to shards
Tariffs injudiciously, imposed to **** the cards.
International uproar, industry in strife
Teetering disastrously when NATO flees the knife.
Putin sits and rubs his hands, hilarious the show
Disorder and disharmony to lubricate his glow.
Beijing sits inscrutably, always opportune
Manoeuvring judiciously, in place, to call the tune.
America, the isolate, sails away to sea
Blondini, at the helm, wears smirk indulgently.
M.
The White House
HAMILTON NZ
12th July 2018
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 2:17 AM UTC
They call it BPD
A illness that shapes me,
Its the “I don’t fit in” disorder,
The “Your the one who’s out of order.”
Come to terms I now admit,
How hard I felt each near hit.
Always one with the conflict,
feelings of A counterfeit.
There turns A time of no cease,
absence of light is unleashed,
out of the blue from the inside,
this empty form and crowded mind.
A Diagnosis is in ..
The cerebrums burnt,
like third degree skin,
Its now over sensitive to everything.
The cause of the burns,
Is internal fires,
that incinerated mental wires.
Did I change who I am,
for A world i saw to be A sham,
attempting to form A personality,
Ill try them on to see what fits me.
Not afraid to be on my own
yet again, not all alone.
To see the great in everyone
until reminded that Im wrong.
If everything is all black and white,
Right or wrong,
where do I look too belong,
My solitary single handed fight,
To search for release of this plight.
May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 4:29 PM UTC
It's coming through a hole in the air,
from those nights in Tiananmen Square.
It's coming from the feel
that it ain't exactly real,
or it's real, but it ain't exactly there.
From the wars against disorder,
from the sirens night and day,
from the fires of the homeless,
from the ashes of the gay:
Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.
It's coming through a crack in the wall,
on a visionary flood of alcohol;
from the staggering account
of the Sermon on the Mount
which I don't pretend to understand at all.
It's coming from the silence
on the dock of the bay,
from the brave, the bold, the battered
heart of Chevrolet:
Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.
It's coming from the sorrow on the street
the holy places where the races meet;
from the homicidal bitchin'
that goes down in every kitchen
to determine who will serve and who will eat.
From the wells of disappointment
where the women kneel to pray
for the grace of G-d in the desert here
and the desert far away:
Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.
Sail on, sail on
o mighty Ship of State!
To the Shores of Need
past the Reefs of Greed
through the Squalls of Hate
Sail on, sail on
It's coming to America first,
the cradle of the best and the worst.
It's here they got the range
and the machinery for change
and it's here they got the spiritual thirst.
It's here the family's broken
and it's here the lonely say
that the heart has got to open
in a fundamental way:
Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.
It's coming from the women and the men.
O baby, we'll be making love again.
We'll be going down so deep
that the river's going to weep,
and the mountain's going to shout Amen!
It's coming to the tidal flood
beneath the lunar sway,
imperial, mysterious
in amorous array:
Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.
Sail on, sail on
o mighty Ship of State!
To the Shores of Need
past the Reefs of Greed
through the Squalls of Hate
Sail on, sail on
I'm sentimental if you know what I mean:
I love the country but I can't stand the scene.
And I'm neither left or right
I'm just staying home tonight,
getting lost in that hopeless little screen.
But I'm stubborn as those garbage bags
that Time cannot decay,
I'm junk but I'm still holding up
this little wild bouquet:
Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.
12.4k
A boyfriend and a goal
The fuel to my eating disorder.
Just 5 pounds.
No dessert tonight
Just 4 pounds.
No dessert tonight
Half a sandwich for lunch
Just 3 pounds.
No dessert tonight
Half a sandwich for lunch
Only a salad for dinner
Just 2 pounds.
No dessert tonight
Half a sandwich for lunch
Only a salad for dinner
I'll go for a run
Just 1 pound.
No dessert tonight
Half a sandwich for lunch
Only a salad for dinner
I'll go for a run
No breakfast tomorrow
Just 5 more pounds...
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 8:54 PM UTC
the bass hits, the drum rolls
Being a victim of a spilt decision of a racial war at 10 years old
Was never told, a way to be, but my fathers legacy, made me look at one side painfully cold
Wide awake, as I lay my head
On the belief my kind is dead
The proper stereotype of a white kid
But the preference to black kids outfit
Putin on a show, to simply fit in
Not knowin were the **** I should of truly been
The constant pain of feelin like ****
A young man who is confusingly mixed...
...
I see a star who shines bright, in a darken night,
Did you know, not all stars shine white?
They're shades of black, just remember that...why couldn't I see this logic way back?
Another poser, who's addicted to rap..
"Ya not black" like what kind of stupid **** is that?
You speak a way, but was always consider white
Do you see the mixed feeling? ******* mixed signs!?
Why can't ya accept me for just me?
Why can't ya just learn to love me?
Why who I am means I have act a certain way!?
that kinda **** makes me doubt people everyday!
My verses struggle with a troubled hook!
Can you see me now? Have you even looked?
A black father, who showed me fear
A white mother, who's voice I hear!
Another song, sharing my lies!
Another fight, with my dark side!
When will ya get it and just put this **** to rest? You judge so much, make it hard to be my best
Your words are a bullet! Penetratin my chest, I done clean up my act but you keep making another mess
I'm tired of trying to please you, tired of trying to defeat you
Ya minds are so glassy, it obvious to see through. **** you, be gone! Stop and please carry on! Fly away! Take a trip don't tell me when ya landin
You all pushed me so much...........yet I'm still standin...standin...standin....but I will be gone, soon.
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 2:32 PM UTC
You… you’ve got a lot going for you
You’re famous, you’re smart, and you’re powerful
but you are ugly.
You think we can’t see the evil under that gaudy, outdated sweater
but we can.
You think that fancy perfume you wear hides the scent of terror
but it doesn’t.
You think the makeup you put on daily covers the pure pain written on your face
but you are dead wrong
bipolar, you are hideous.
Sometimes, though, that’s easy to forget
when it feels like I can do anything
the world is my oyster. When I feel that ungodly fake happiness
that masquerades as wellness, when I’m with you
and I don’t want to leave.
That’s when you have me. Then you take the opportunity
to torment me.
The façade is gone, and it all comes rolling through the gates.
You scream a thousand voices into my head
you bind my body and I can feel your merciless crushing grasp
you convince me that everything is good, it’s not bad,
it’s bad, it’s not good,
this is good, that is bad, I need to say it over and over and over again
you take over, and I don’t stand a chance.
My peace of mind is gone, and my humanity is soon to follow
How did I let this happen to me? I’ll never know
but I’ve learned this:
You do take no for an answer
and I have a lot more control than I thought.
If I ask you to stay away, you’ll ask me why, and I’ll tell you
because I want to be better
and as long as I let you anywhere near me, I will always
be stuck here
on this nightmare of a rollercoaster.
So you accept that, thank God
thank you, bipolar, for setting me free,
at least once in a while.
I feel less alone without you because
I can love more fully, for longer, forever.
I can accept my imperfections rather
than suffer in the desire to be rid of them. to be rid of you.
I can be still and know
that it is ok.
I’m ok, you’re ok. and I intermittently have my **** together.
I’m sorry things are not working out between you and me,
bipolar disorder.
but I’m not sorry that without you,
my life is ******* beautiful.
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 5:11 PM UTC
Panic
Throughout
Scary
Dreams
Patience
Tried
Summons
Danger
Personal
Turmoil
Self
Doubt
Post
Traumatic
Stress
Disorder
Feb 13, 2011
Feb 13, 2011 at 7:41 AM UTC