i was just that kid, no one would take me seriously
now an adult, still fighting the demons residually
couldn’t digest the emotions that coursed through me
no outlet, purge valve to release the steam
always holding back the will to flex n yell ‘******* FEAR ME’
see, that’s the thing about insanity
its not a brink like you’ve been lead to believe
let me show you, as we walk down the staircase of what used to be
further killing any memories of identity that were introduced to me
take a step down, this isn’t so bad. the life you had is still a footstep back
just a footstep back, yeah, one that you know you’ll never take
i wouldn’t worry much, don’t they say it’s never too late?
but its okay, no one else will know you’re lying to yourself
even if you weren’t, who would know? the hell with it
this is probably the point where you would wanna ask an expert…
is this kid okay? is he gonna hurt himself or others? **** that ****
you’re riding with me now kid, look around, the walls don’t seem too inviting
you’re left with yourself bud, and its not my time you’re biding
now we’re all the way down here, probably lost track of the steps didn’t you?
i knew you would, after all, I AM IN YOU
that little scared kid never left you, you just covered it with faux confidence
i can see it in your eyes, you’re terrified. try not to **** your pants
darkness can be quite inviting, no judgment and all that room to think
but heroes are born in places where there’s no room, there’s the absence of it
so what does that make you? some sort of awkward halfling breed?
desperately clinging to the idealogies that give you the peace to sleep
or is that fire inside you still burning somewhere hard to reach?
i mean, it would be fitting. we are in hell, you just walked here with me
it’s funny, it’s cliche, laugh about it. but when i’m gone you’ll be begging for someone to fight about it
with
because it’s easier to go your whole life fighting everyone around you
painting yourself as the selfless do-gooder unable to change injustices done to you
irrational fears of something that’s indescribable
the inability; given paradisiacal life, to thrive, so-
so what? what is it that’s stopping you?
there’s no longer any kids around here mocking you…
i don’t hear their voices taunting you
telling you what you should and shouldn’t do
no, in fact i hear total silence
disrupted by the crazy directions your mind went
why does it bother you so much, this lack of music?
is it because you’re used to it?
used to not being able to hear this ****?
all the **** you covered with anything you could find when it was too much to deal with
bury your head in your hands and bump this ****
flow through the cracks of your heart with a clever melody
maneuvering it’s way into your psyche intricately
making you believe you need a way out of this insanity
forming the key ingredients of dependency:
me, me, me me and me
funny thing is all i want is not to be
not obsessed with self harm, i’d rather do it painlessly
i know what it’s like to feel pain, i’d rather just not feel at all
bury that **** with the oxy i just took 5 minutes ago
mix a morphine and some lean into that sadboi cocktail
potent mix knock you on your *** every time without fail
so here you are, ****** up on the couch, paper still not started
it’s due tomorrow, you knew that, but right now you’re full *******
i guess i can write all this, just not do what i gotta do
explains why i’m still sittin here in hell, with you
loneliness loves company, and i see now why we’re both at the bottom
but if i knew my issues were mine long before this, how come i did nothing to stop em?
i still live life the same way torn between begging for change and too ****** up to care
there comes a certain point where you can’t love and accept what isn’t there
the last time you asked for help it fell on deaf ears, and even if it didn’t, you would have rejected it-
it’s too much to bear
accepting affection even though on the inside you pine for it
is easily as painful as sitting alone and whining about it
so it’s just less complex to not share. sit here, shut the **** up, not care
do what you gotta do, it keeps you alive anyway
but what good is living if all you exude is misery?
i’m sick of myself but i don’t know how to change.
the demons inside are winning and i don’t know if i can break it
that’s the end, there’s nothing left for you to fight against
you’ve fought yourself long enough, give up, cut the ****
take a long look in the mirror, it’s make or break
well, it always has been but is this really the path you want to take?
i don’t even know what my life is supposed to be, this figure in the mirror that i’m supposed to call me
seems like some sort of cruel joke, identity in anonymity
fancy words to describe a lack of purpose- what am i supposed to be?
but if the self doesn’t belong to the self… shut up you’re overthinking
i can’t even see my thoughts anymore, all i can hear is static
‘still gotta start that paper’- still in the back of my mind, after all of this
i haven’t even looked up the prompt… are you schoolworkin or having an existential crisis?
can’t even make up my mind about making up my mind… now that’s a problem
just chalk that up to another one i don’t know how to solve quite yet
we cling to the concrete because the unknown is scary
but when we’re down here, what’s left to fear? that scared kid died inside of me
feel hollow but too full of the ******* everywhere to see clearly
still wondering why i’m still talking… probably escaping from something
never written poetry, and it probably shows. just looking for feedback. it's meant to be anonymous.
