"internal" poems
Sitting in some car in a forgotten parking lot
Grey marks the skies
Lush green plants peeping in
The wildlife of concrete and paint makes the perfect background
For
Little ***** of liquid heaven falling on my windscreen
And some music to complete the scene
Each guitar line synchronises with each raindrop
Each blast of power thunder hits hard like heavy metal
But the soft clouds, the gentle ebb and flow lull me to sleep
Whispering, persuading me to dream
But I really don't want to miss this shard of time
I never want to lose little moments like these
A silver raindrop is born by landing on my car
Crash landing, rather
The bubbling pocket of mystery travels down
Swerving and slamming into other fellow pockets in crime
It's life cycle completes when it reaches the bottom
It races to it's death, unable to stop gravity's plan for it
Each drop morphs into another, making a wave
The rain weaves an intricate web of waves
All strutting their sparkly magic before me
I sense a metaphor for humanity creeping in
Millions of crescendos growing about
Too concerned with their internal politics to worry about others
But I stay focused on the beauty all around
I wonder if heaven has rainy days
If so, this must be one of them
Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 12:28 PM UTC
I chose feminism because I believe in equality between genders.
because I’m against gender roles, men who need a woman to get their **** done are not “cute” and are nothing but spoiled little brats.
because my virginity, my body hair and how I dress up are none of your business.
I chose feminism because I’m not a *** machine nor a baby producer I value much much more than that.
because I don’t need a man to validate my self worth, I already know what I’m worth.
because in some countries ***** women are forced to spend the rest of their life under the same roof as their assaulter.
I chose feminism because a woman who speak up and raise her voice is a ***** .
because in my city a woman was beaten by her husband the night of their wedding because she didn’t “bleed” in the ***********
I chose to speak up because an 8 year old Yemeni girl died of internal injuries at the hands of 40 year old husband on their wedding night.
because ****** is not a ***** word and my periods are not disgusting.
because more women need to speak up and speak for their rights
I chose feminism and everyone should do the same .
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
As insecure toddlers, we were often told by our parents that inner beauty is more important than outer beauty. This is how they were able to instill in us the confidence we may have today, whenever we represent ourselves in front of other people. However, this is something I find to be quite inaccurate. If you ask a random person about what they find beautiful and attractive, most of them would probably begin to describe a person’s physical attributes than the internal attributes.
Beauty is defined to be the perfect balance and harmony with nature, which may lead to feelings of attraction and emotional well-being. Since the attraction is subjective, the term “beauty is in the eye of the beholder” takes place. Many individuals would like to believe that looks are never important, and that judgments should be based on a person’s internal well-being instead of its outer counterparts.
In our modern society, external beauty is more favorable since everything becomes more convenient, than when you only have internal beauty. People will always see your external beauty the moment they see you and not that beautiful mind and soul of yours, and that’s what makes them attracted to you. Just like with expensive cars, the moment a car is put into the market, the consumer who will buy them would first look at their exterior first before they would look for its driving ability; no matter how good its performance may be, these people would always look at its exterior. Also, external beauty can help you be successful, it can land you jobs, earn more money, and help you be treated with more respect by strangers than those with internal beauty.
The preference for external beauty than internal beauty is what is wrong in our current society. We live up to the evolved norms of society that we have started to grow backwards. Outer beauty fades, and no matter how beautiful you are on the outside, once people get to know you, you’d be nothing but a simple less attractive human being than you once were. I would leave a wonderful quote here written by a great author: “A tree may look as beautiful as ever; but when you notice the insects infesting it, and the tips of the branches that are brown from disease, even the trunk seems to lose some of its magnificence.”
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 7:55 PM UTC
Every light makes a shadow
And every shadow is darkness.
The darkness holds a secret
A secret never to be revealed by the light.
Every person is light
But everyone holds a secret.
A secret buried deep within themselves
Covered in darkness.
When the light meets the darkness
They clash.
There is no neutral or gray.
In the end, only one is left standing.
Oct 27, 2011
Oct 27, 2011 at 1:28 AM UTC
I crave intimacy
Not the type that subconsciously comes to mind -
The connection
Between one soul,
To another
Bleeding pure, genuine
Devotion.
I crave fidelity
An enduring exchange
I don't want to be physically touched;
I want to feel my internal organs
Spark.
I want to embrace it
Savoring every moment
Apr 7, 2019
Apr 7, 2019 at 8:41 PM UTC
From the beginning
we were born to die.
There is no starting over.
There are no second chances.
With death carved on our skin
how could we live a normal life?
You could run but you'll one day run out of breath.
It's just a game.
You hide your pain and sorrow.
Save it for another day
when everything just falls apart and you can't pick it up.
Medicine and alcohol keeps you awake
As you hunt your demons and monsters.
You could choose to die but then this world would fall apart.
You give others that second chance,
you give them time to run and escape
while you slaughter their monsters,
and **** their demons instead.
You've got blood on your hands
and a soldier's heart.
Your brain is beautiful
just corrupted.
You smile to stay strong
and your humor hides your internal scars.
In the end
you'll look back on your youth
and notice you died a long time ago.
You never had the chance to be happy.
You'll never know the feeling of growing old with your lover
because all your lovers are either buried below your feet,
or somewhere up in the sky with the stars.
It's not that far,
one day you'll be with them.
Then, you'll finally be able to rest your tired hands.
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 7:01 PM UTC
It seemed the space between us became torn and
Profoundly distanced....................
Jamming bony knuckles and spread eagled fingers,
Lying their mapped out journey.....direction on point patrol....
Adorned by silver decoration, delighting in their skinned habitat
Shafted, deceit punching the recipient of the poison digits
Prodding and pushing their intent....dare you contradict
The intended carved out dose of punishment, Risk and
Safety......not yours and never would be; stooped
Down under the assailing bony palmed attachements
That delivered penetrating power, cupped around
Your arm til it became discoloured, pressure points
Backed you into a corner, up against the grain of the
Brick wall, cold and damp, the odour reaching
And scolding your nostrils with its stale internal vows
Refuse, stretching and protruding its foul remnents
An earlier life, when you were not under threat fades
Your very existance in jeopardy, your eyes pleaded for
Normality, willing someone to hear your silence, grip you
Tightly, not with malice, but with bravery and valour
Right now you need that shining knight, that white
Horse galloping down the blind alleyway, yet you
Know that won't happen for you're already sinking
To the floor, the blow comes sharp and stings, warmth
Exudes and trickles a path downwards, leaving your
Body, finding the cold concrete beneath you, travelling
Outwards................
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 7:58 AM UTC
There is a place
Where insecurities rule
No one is safe
From the voices that live in the dark recesses
The Kingdom of Insecurities
Walls of confidence crumble
Seedlings of doubt are planted in the gardens of love
Hate lives among love
Flowers of fear grow tall
The fruit of all relationships is rotten
The Kingdom of Insecurities is dark
The lack of light does little to hide
The terror that lurks behind our own eyes
There is no King or Queen of Insecurities
We have no master but our own internal fears
Someone
Anyone
Please help me escape this yolk
Get me out of
The Kingdom of Insecurities
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 7:02 AM UTC
Fabricated.
Fictitious.
A fake floating feeling
Falls short
Of my fleeting fantasy.
This insidious infirmity
Isn't what I intended.
I've been inflicted
With internal indisposition.
In need of an ideal identity.
Who am I without
This ****** to make me whole?
How do I heave my heart
Away from this hole?
Have you seen how hard this is?
But it's been short of a year,
Of believing I can simply be.
And before I break
Bleed me of my bane.
And for me, bear no malice.
Tightly take me
Away from my terible tempest.
Time tells me it's time to stop.
Too long I've tortured my tenemet.
Tame the tantrum tearing through me.
Sober seems strong,
But it's systematic survival.
Stopping the surrender
To something stimulating.
Learning to stand sedated.
No I'm no longer numb.
No longer neglecting my need
For new novcane.
Knowing I'll never need
This vaccine again.
You are all my ambition.
Dispelling my ailments
And afflictions.
I am hard to adore, I know.
You are my new addiction.
You have me dreaming,
Praying we are real.
Made me feel.
Don't decieve my brittle belief.
Keep me, don't leave.
I'm not the kind to fly.
For you i'd try to dive.
Unafraid I might die.
I don't hide from the night.
This is what I've been trying to find.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 9:59 AM UTC
She is A Queen
She's something special, similar to a candy coated dream.
The God in her will sooth you soul as if you were Listening To the sound of the rushing river Streams
Her spirit Shines brighter than a car's high Beams.
Her love is sweeter than brown sugar
And Me oh my she is Looker
Her big chestnut sultry eyes reveals the beauty of Her soul inside.
I can just smell the aroma of her Shea butter and coconut fragranced skin as it glows due to her internal flame shinning within.
Cocoa Brown is the color of her melanated Bronze complexion.
Man, her smile drives me wild.
That luminous smile, her glorious smile, is as gorgeous as the clouds when she shows her pearly whites.
It brightens my day like a lamp in the darkness of the night.
And her mind Is a secret treasure That only her King Can discover and uncover the bountiful mountains he'll climb.
She's Artistic and Musically Inclined
And at the drop of a dime shell bust out in A poetic rhyme
And her words, Gosh her blissfully profoundly spoken words, will send chills up your spine
She's My own little personal ray of sunshine
Radiating truth and her words are so kind
She's simply divine
She's a peacemaker staying serene
From the inside out she is a beautiful Human being
She's good for your mental hygiene
Kinda like how your body needs protein.
Royalty is embedded in DNA gene
And her crown is made of lustrous flowing locks shining like oil sheen.
She is Royalty, She's My sister from another Mister, She is an Unshaken, Strong, melanized Beautiful Queen.
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 12:55 PM UTC
I'm a Barbie Girl,
in a Barbie World.
Life's fantastic: I
feel like plastic,
aiming for an eighteen-inch waist because I can afford to throw my internal organs away.
I feel like plastic,
having to choose
between eating and breathing with not enough space for two tubes.
I feel like plastic,
a thirty-nine inch bust and three times the forehead.
I feel like plastic,
a size nine squeezed to a three, spending
three to nine avoiding mealtime because my weight loss book says
'Don't eat.'
I'm a Barbie Girl,
in a Barbie World.
Life's fantastic, but...
I'm not plastic.
I've sat here listening while you complain about society but I don't think you realize that
society is made by you.
You complain about masks but you're masked by your poetry and
trust me,
it's trendy:
Psychiatry.
A bottle of capsules captures your soul and your dreams,
fading
reality.
I cannot be defined because a definition leaves no room for change and I
am a flame,
ready to burn the cardboard box of priority you put over me.
All the cool kids are lesbians and thespians on about repressions
and I care,
I do,
I mean... I'm standing here among you.
But words are just air.
You can stand on this stage and tell me I'm beautiful, but
I am more than my face so
disregard my mild distaste for your
inspirational speech.
Now, this...
This isn't a call for help.
This is a call to arms.
This
is a battle cry because
I
am sick of waiting for a future that should've happened yesterday.
So use this air to live the words you say and
rally.
Do not soothe, because we've already been cocooned by soothed reality in
Shawnee,
Johnson County.
I'm a real girl,
in a real world.
Life's fantastic, and I
refuse to be plastic,
aiming for generic weight range based on content, not scale number.
I refuse to be plastic,
a neck moulded perfectly for both eating and breathing so I don't have to choose.
I refuse to be plastic,
a bust that you don't need to be sizing
when I've got eyes
a green not of romanticized meadows but of drunken
puke.
I refuse to be plastic,
a size nine foot in a size nine shoe,
spending three to nine
enjoying my meal times,
because my weight loss book is
chucked down the chute.
I'm a living girl
in a beautiful world.
Life's fantastic,
because I'm not plastic.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 4:24 PM UTC
The only proper way to be a conversationalist is to convince yourself that you’re boring. If you can strip back the hard shell of the ego, and look down on yourself from the eyes of an apathetic God, you will likely (and hopefully) see just how boring you really are. It isn’t a sin to be boring, in fact there are many advantages to honest self-depreciation.
The main advantage, is the way you approach a conversation. “Interesting” people find it difficult to silence the affected score-keeper that dominates their internal dialogue and ruins any chance of an honest and engaged conversation. It is the voice that reminds you to show interest with your body language, and keep a dumb happy gaze laser pointed into their eyes. This dialogue is obsessed with authenticity and genuine conversation, and therefore a natural sociopath.
Luckily, you are the stunning definition of boredom, an extracted dictionary cut-out of un-interesting, and nobody could possibly give a rats-ass what you have to think—least of all the Voice that controls the inner-dialogue. That Voice has packed it up to find a more interesting vessel…maybe the person standing across from you in conversation.
Because you are so boring, and they are the Oxford personification of intellect and fascination, you should pay careful attention to what they say—no time to worry about how they’re perceiving your reaction to whatever it is they’re saying. You are too busy to notice what sort of body language you may or may not be using to validate their half of the conversation. Instead, your time is spent carefully hanging on their every word, digesting it and projecting the whole bit into a colourful scene in your imagination. Instead, you’re too lost in the excitement of their infinitely more interesting life and impossible wealth of knowledge offered to you with each word that they speak. Instead, you are actually listening to the words that come out of their mouth and not the ones that speak to you from the inside of your own mind.
This is what it means to be in conversation. This was the point of our social nature. And in a world of needy social-media junkies grabbing at the cuffs of potential ‘followers’ and ‘likes’ and trendy passer-by’s, the last thing anyone needs is the high-pitched whine of another “interesting” millennial.
Lucky for you, you boring sack of yawning sloths, that you aren’t interesting too.
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 6:13 PM 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
Beautiful lotus...
I wish they could see,
All the potential you have and the things that you could be.
Everything you imagined in your wildest dreams...
Beautiful lotus, how I wish they could see.
They love your Florescent petals so they pick you apart… unaware of the internal damage this causes to your heart.
I guess its called "Tough Love" but they are stripping your art.
Beatuiful Lotus, taking blows so harsh..
You should be a beautiful diamond considering all the pressure you've been through,
Such a precious gem with dark, ugly roots…
Faced with adversity and Plagued by deception… Still finding your way to see it through. A world so cold and ugly has created something so beautiful.
Bloom Lotus bloom, Even in the heart of June. Shine lotus shine, even in the light of the Moon... Never let anything in this world make you leave it too soon. You have so many things that you need to see.
Beautiful lotus...
My sweet sweet lotus,
Just set yourself free.
And reach for the Heights they told you you would never see.
-Ari B.
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
Meditating in the carnage,
my core's cyanide became
warm milk before bed. My carcass
coexisted in inconsistent comfort, that
safety untouched like internal feelings.
Unstable caramelized eyes watered down to a
wary hazelnut from lack of love, the way the
phone screen glows white to gray at 4 AM.
Aching in agony; I haven't found a person
to care for the poison within me-
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 9:50 PM UTC
A Close friend said "The Perfect Woman"
is much like a shark.
if I am greeted in this ocean,
by a woman
I will allow her to look at me with all primal intent.
splay my wrist open and watch her
as she smells the little turn of blood
floating now in spirals between us
I'll have done it not for the pain, or shock
but for the honesty.
to watch a creature struggling to hold onto their facade
and the tears that start to bloom in the pink
above their sharp teeth.
Look, I know sharks don't cry.
it's not about the crying,
I crave the visceral emotion.
want to give my body to the indulgence
the electric moment where
I feel them feel conflicted
with my whole body
feel their suffering and internal struggle
in my entire manic smile
tight cheeked
all eyes on them like a paid performer
or Alternatively,
I would give them all this passion,
my body in anticipation of their opening
clenching to their masks,
They Devour me.
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 12:27 AM UTC
Visibly wholesome with internal infractions
Humans predisposed to fatal attractions
Remain cautious & constantly selective
In a world where hearts are pure but minds are deceptive
The mind screams lust while the heart craves affection
The root of true beauty lies within imperfection
For every blossoming rose, is at least a single thorn
& every heavenly angel has a deeply hidden horn
Thus a man's flaws aren't defined as his impurities
It's the illusion of perfection that equate to his insecurities
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 5:24 PM UTC
Earthquake Poem
3/5/2014
What do you suppose an earthquake does?
Sure, there are the shakes and scares,
Seismic shifts accompanied by tectonic tears.
But ditch this global perspective,
Figure out what rips those ripples, detective.
Let’s see you pound at the ground.
Hit it hard, ‘til you hear a heavy sound.
Is that enough to fissure some asphalt?
Tell me, could you bring this spinning planet to a sudden halt?
I can’t say for sure, what an Earth-quake does.
Though I’ve been a victim,
Earth isn’t where my quake was.
An Earth-less earthquake,
On a planet whose name I’ve learned to forsake.
Wynn’s world wandered ‘round someone else’s orbit:
Drawn to its gravity like grapes grow on a vine;
Brightened by its solar system’s shining smile, so divine;
Emotional tides tugged in and out;
Guided by its mysterious moon’s midnight meandering about.
That’s right – an orbit with its own time flow.
Time that could stomp its heels and steal a spotlight,
Time that could manipulate a moment like jello, mayonnaise, or some other squishy substance,
Time that could crash course, while standing still,
Time that could reveal something you never knew.
What do you suppose an earthquake does?
A quake could be anything that makes you shake.
Think of quaking in fear, as an unknown figure draws near.
Think of a jittery heart, that’s been bit by a bullet.
Internal tears,
think of organs bleeding,
Think of needing,
solid ground,
but falling and time keeps stalling.
When a quiet little quiver promises to deliver,
its slight shock signal straight through the middle.
When a molten magma core fizzes its manic madness,
like a shaken soda.
When an epic eruption carries out its upward excelsior,
Rejecting the spinning without a stop.
Oh, the mountains will tumble,
The hills and valleys, they’ll crumble,
And gurgle in the raging rivers’ rumble,
As volcanoes churn out violent bubbles,
Stirring up all kinds of troubles,
For one person’s personal planet.
For one person’s personal planet,
These violent forces of nature can’t compare to an Earth-quake,
When the ground you stand on begins to break,
When you realize your senseless stability is fake.
When that little quake knocks your Earth awake,
It’s reality coming alive to take, and take, and take,
Because for love, you put everything at stake.
What do you suppose an earthquake does?
I’ll tell you – it leaves a wrecked world with a cracked core and scorched surroundings.
Just because.
Just because, love on Earth always comes with a quiet little quake.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC
Sometimes I hate this
This thing that I'm born with
It causes so many unnecessary fights
It causes so many stupid problems
I can't go to a regular school
I can't have a regular job
The moment I say the word autism
I've already had enough
I don't know what the positive sides are
Of something that makes me so different
I only know the negative parts
Because that's the part that makes me conflicted
Why would I love something that has ruined my chance for a normal life?
How could I accept something that refuses my acceptance?
All they tell me is you need help
you need help, you need help, you need help
And I get help
The people who help have helped
But even though I can function better
No one can take away this internal anger
I feel inadequate, I feel dumb
I feel sad, I feel numb
I can't speak of my emotions
although I got feelings all the time
I wish there was a potion
that made it possible for me to speak about it in an other way than rhyme
I wish I could say what was really on my mind
I wish I could say how my autism makes me want to die
I wish I could say I love myself in any shape or form
I wish I could say that I can conform to the norm
But I can't
so I play league
And then I get mad
When they say "autistic screech"
Because it's so hilarious
Living with this everyday
Because it's so hilarious
That this will never ******* change
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 7:37 PM UTC
perhaps a subject already well covered. but I consult no one else,
who can expertly summon the artificial artifacts, no better yet,
art~iN~facts of prior expert~tease, and speak only and wholly
for myself, blatant, and openly undisguised
it is the spilling, the upward sensory explosive detonating,
in a pressured chest, the eagerness
to race, to complete,
find the next line, to define, to refine to get the balance tween
elegance and simplicity, to have the ******** sensory totality
of completely having spun off a piece of me and let it free float as a balloon, that may fly to China or get stuck on a telephone pole
just beyond my front door
=============
^ I write this midst the composition of another poem, wherein
unusually I feel the need to pause, collect my thoughts which are bombarding my atoms internal, causing a new fissionable element,
distinct and unique, my poem…next…
Sep 21, 2025
Sep 21, 2025 at 5:02 AM UTC
*My mind has switched off
without giving me
any notice at all,
I find myself staring
into thin air,
I've blended into the wall.
My thoughts are blank,
I'm lacking motivation,
my inspiration is bleak,
I'm lethargic and dull,
I'm feeling very, very weak.
I'm not myself,
or maybe I am,
I'm beyond confused,
my soul is tired;
exhausted is what I am!
I want to cry,
but I 'm too tired,
I want to scream,
I'm frustrated;
I feel like
I need to be rewired.
I'm on edge,
my knees are shaking,
Sweaty palms,
my heart is breaking!
I'm never going to get
my **** together,
I've been trying
for what feels like
forever!
As tired as I am,
I know I'll never give in,
I'm too determined to quit,
even though I know
I'll never win.
My mind has switched off,
I can't figure anything out,
I'm full of emptiness,
I'm going through
an emotional drought.
I want to cry,
but I know my tears
are all in vain,
I'm mentally exhausted,
I feel a terrible sensation,
a mental strain;
a relentless
invisible internal pain.
By Lady R.F. (C) 2017*
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 9:37 AM UTC
if i were a watermelon
my shell would crack open
so easily under your knife
my juices would spread
on the surface
of what you laid me on
my pink internal flesh
made of pure water and sunshine
would be
destroyed
explored
devoured
and enjoyed by your pink tongue
…it would be
the only flavor you’d ever want
in the summertime
Jun 15, 2012
Jun 15, 2012 at 12:53 AM UTC
What might it be, that lets some just not give up when there is
absolutely no reason to continue fighting any longer ?
As I question this to myself, in a room filled with candle light,
I realise that it might be an ember of hope, of determination,
courage and the imagination to win what lets them carry through.
In this weaving melody of thoughts, breath flowing uninterrupted
I want to lose myself in this wandering fragrance just for this,
endless seeming, moment of unimaginable emotions.
As then I remember the countless times I had lift myself up,
Was it that I had abandoned hope until now or was it that my
means had become pointless so I decided to give up and let this
internal, inferno which let myself rise from the fires of the battlefield
go out and turn into an dying ember, flickering in it's last moments.
Yet I have come to understand what it really meant:
The emptiness you’ve carried and lost is but nothing!
Desiring the grand beauty of the heavens far above
From here we may never look up nor ever return!
This world shall not take even half of our spirits!
And so I rise from the fire once more, after having burned, been consumed and fed by it for such a long lasting while.
Because I wish to protect you, all I desire is to protect you.
Thus I return into the battlefield from which I have fallen.
To shine once again, illuminating your days so you may smile.
~ Umi
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 2:30 PM UTC
A monster appears
like one from your childhood
An inner battle commences
Between the bad and the good
At first, you'd find them in movies
or under the bed
Now as you grow, you fear
The monsters live in your head
Disguised as shadows in night,
New monsters now appear
These monsters are sneakier,
They know what you fear
Struggling to breathe,
your eyes filled with fear
Trapped, alone, no where to hide
Can't escape, it's far and it's near
This monster is tricky,
It plays tricks on your mind,
You plead for it to stop,
But there's no where to hide
This monster knows you
It makes you question your past
With a bleak outlook,
You wonder how long this might last
The one place you felt safe
Before this monster invaded
Now your mind is no solace
Every good memory faded
How do you run from something
That plays tricks on your mind?
How do you know who you are
When it's yourself you can't find?
How do you feel joy from
things that now trigger pain?
How do you move forward with life
when only fear remains?
We all grow up
It's a natural part of life
No one ever warns us though
That life comes with great strife
No one ever tells us
To be afraid of our thoughts
Feeling lost and alone
With many battles still to be fought
Once this monster invades,
It's hard to get back
To a life once lived,
Before this monster attacked
Our parents warned us of
the bad guys outside
They never told us
of the ones in our minds
And now this monster has control
You no longer recognize the mirror
You pray for this to end,
For prayers fall upon deaf ears
You question your sanity,
You question your morals
This monster knows how to torture
To envelop you in its toil
You know you have a battle ahead
This monster can't defeat
Crippled by the past
You must overcome and beat
This is an illness
This is internal torture
But you mustn't forget
You've got a bright future
You must fight on,
Between this inner war
Good versus evil,
What do you fight for?
Fight for love,
Fight to win back your mind
Fight for family and joy
Fight for what you still must find
Monsters can attack
Anyone, anytime
Lest not judge
For you never know when a monster might prey upon YOUR mind
Author note: end the stigma of mental illness. Talk about it.
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC