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Apr 2018 · 282
High road, low road
V Apr 2018
God handed me the keys and told me: "Go and unlock the door."
While the Devil held the door open and spoke: "The door is unlocked."
Yet, held the keys.
<3
Apr 2018 · 364
Illuminate
V Apr 2018
Stars don't die quietly,
They paint the darkness with color.
Thoughts at 2 AM
Mar 2018 · 384
Mind Control
V Mar 2018
Allow someone to hold your mind for too long,
And he may just take your life.
Based upon personal experience with trauma and abuse since I was younger. I still struggle with things such a strange "Stockholm syndrome" and things I have yet to "deprogram" my mind from believing.

To those who have known physical or mental abuse or even both:
Acknowledgement in speaking up is your first step to freedom,
Do not be afraid to see what is beyond the cage.
Mar 2018 · 252
Depression be like
V Mar 2018
Everything is boring,
Everything is sad,
Everything is scary,
And everything is bad.
Just a random and short poem that describes how depression is for me lately. -.-
Mar 2018 · 260
Paranoia
V Mar 2018
You must all call me insane behind the curtains of the stage,
And who knows if you are well acquainted with the directors pulling the strings.
Paranoia, insecurity, anxiety and feelings of distrust and worthlessness have really be getting to me lately. ):
Mar 2018 · 218
Imperfection
V Mar 2018
Let no man preach to you that he is God,
For imperfection runs through his veins.
Of relating to my experience with religions.
Not to offend anyone. -.-
Mar 2018 · 562
White
V Mar 2018
My knuckles are white,
From holding on too tight,
To people,
Who never belonged to me.
Another personal vent.
Mar 2018 · 375
Too much
V Mar 2018
I am afraid to let you in, not because I am afraid of you hurting me,

But because I am scared of hurting myself, by loving you a little too much.
My personal torture of both a blessing and curse with BPD. I tend to have this overwhelming love for humanity and everyone I meet. I am genuinely a clingy person who struggles to let go or even need constant reassurance...
But at times it kills me that even the love I give and show, may never mean anything.
Mar 2018 · 290
Whole
V Mar 2018
You can still be whole, with your scattered self.
:)
Mar 2018 · 218
Million
V Mar 2018
3 million years ago,
Humans walked freely in the enchanted wild.

We were wanderers by birth,
Became prisoners by choice.
Just something that came to mind during a spiritual encounter. Idk.
Mar 2018 · 346
Fortitude
V Mar 2018
Strength.
Someone who carries darkness,
Yet, somehow is still a light.
To anyone who needs it,
A hug, because I mean it with all my heart.


From one surviving soul to another.
Mar 2018 · 198
Garden Bed
V Mar 2018
Life is but a garden bed,
The rain it comes and goes,
You can ***** yourself on all the thorns,
Or you could learn to love the rose.
<3
Mar 2018 · 295
Dog eat dog world
V Mar 2018
Don't ever think you are alone here,
We've all been trapped in different hells,
And people aren't against you Dear,
They're just all for themselves.
Mar 2018 · 401
Agoraphobia
V Mar 2018
I live inside the shadows,
For there is comfort in being out of sight,
I fear you will see right through me,
If you hold me to the light.
Anxiety.
Mar 2018 · 324
Odium
V Mar 2018
Disgust,
Mistrust,
It was never love, only lust.
From past experience.
Mar 2018 · 959
RX Poetry
V Mar 2018
Poetry has always been the medicine for my tired, tormented head,
They tried to numb me away with many tiny pills, but "I'll be okay" I said.
With confusion, I knew none would understand,
What writing does for me, why typing or a pencil was more powerful than any drug induced trance.

When all has frightened me,
From voices, hallucinations, and death,
Writing is my heaven from the monsters who tell me:
"No one cares or loves you, just shut the hell up and go to bed."
My schizophrenia has been a horrible hell for me lately, and so has resurfacing trauma.
But needless, despite all my medications...
The power of writing anything has saved my life more than anything.
Mar 2018 · 520
The Cult of Love
V Mar 2018
I have found that often, love is like a cult...
Often easy to fall into and join, yet, hard and debilitating to leave.
Just from personal experience.
Mar 2018 · 170
Reveal
V Mar 2018
Lies, like a bandaid,
When ripped off,
Reveals a painful truth.
Idk, my mind just had an idea.
Feb 2018 · 1.0k
Sincerely, Me.
V Feb 2018
Dear you in the mirror,
I don't understand;
Why?

Sincerely,
Myself on the other side.
Struggles with BDD
Feb 2018 · 279
Silence
V Feb 2018
One thing, depending on how you embrace it,
Can be made of madness or peace.
Personal experince in both...
I digress.
Feb 2018 · 330
Stars
V Feb 2018
Shooting stars exist to remind us that not everything that falls, is broken.*

Feb 2018 · 311
2:40 AM
V Feb 2018
I don't remember when
admist a howling crowd,
my eyes started
s
  e
     a
         r    
             c
               h
             i
          n  
       g

for your face to bring me silence.
Late night thoughts.

(Sorry for the spam.)
Feb 2018 · 337
Vacation
V Feb 2018
I wanted to be your home,
but you were a guest;
You departed and arrived as you pleased,
and left making a vacation out of me.
</3
Feb 2018 · 406
Confession
V Feb 2018
Tell me, Father...
Which do I ask forgivness for?
What I am, or what I am not?
Which should I regret?
What I became or what I didn't?
Feb 2018 · 234
Existence
V Feb 2018
And yet, I believe the moon knows what it means to be human.
Alone. Uncertain. Created by imperfections.
Late night thoughts.
Ignore.me.
Feb 2018 · 423
Faces
Feb 2018 · 1.1k
Makeup
V Feb 2018
Paint,
For an already beautiful canvas.
We are not picture perfect, but we are still worth the picture in the end. <3

You are beautiful.
In being human, in being you.
Feb 2018 · 229
On being a born writer
V Feb 2018
Some people only pick up a pen in grief,
May your pen pick you up in peace.

<3
Ever since I was young did I write and write and write. Since the day I could hold a pencil, marker, pen, crayon, whatever.

I was always full of abundant stories, poetry and imagination, and only later on would I know both ends from picking up a pen in both sadness and of happiness.

I have recieved many awards for my writing pieces in the past, given some to many, published ones for myself or as gifts; but nothing in my life could ever amount to the peace I have had in picking up a pen and being able to create words that not only have spread so many things and help to others,
But in helping myself.

To all the writers out there-
"Use what talent you posses, the woods would be very silent if the only birds that sang were the best."

<3
Jan 2018 · 264
Dog Eat Dog
V Jan 2018
Sticks and stones may build a throne but you will be up there all alone.
Jan 2018 · 286
Occult
V Jan 2018
The weight of a crown is heavier than you think.
Based upon SRA trauma.
Jan 2018 · 917
Stockholm Syndrome
V Jan 2018
It's funny that he was designed as the weapon;
And yet, I am the one fighting to protect him.
My hell.
Jan 2018 · 185
Helpless
V Jan 2018
It would seem that you cannot sell dreams to someone who walks through nightmares.
In relation to loving some of the hardest people.
Jan 2018 · 236
Dissect
V Jan 2018
I never knew much about people until I took one apart just to see how it worked.
</3
Jan 2018 · 747
Depression
V Jan 2018
It is truly a devastating thing to know that the sun rises every morning,
Only to wake up each time to see it set.
I am fighting suicidal thoughts daily.
Lately, nothing seems to help.
Not people, friends, professional help, medicines...
Or the relase found in poetry.

I haven't left the house (or even my bed really) for months.
I see no point.

Yet, still I write.
Dec 2017 · 528
Stay Strong
V Dec 2017
There will come a day I know it,
When you'll love yourself as I love you,
And you won't view your scars as ugly,
But a tally of times you made it through.
.
.
.

I love you's.
Dec 2017 · 387
Botanical
V Dec 2017
This life is but a garden bed,
The rain it comes and goes,
You can ***** yourself on all the thorns,
Or you can learn to love the rose.
Dec 2017 · 374
Colorblind
V Dec 2017
Depression is being colorblind,
and constantly told how colorful the world is.
.
.
.
:(
Dec 2017 · 326
Desire
V Dec 2017
Truly and intense desire starts in the mind,
Not in the touch of a hand.
Dec 2017 · 264
Security
V Dec 2017
We all are born being vulnerable.
We all live being vulnerable.
And we all die being vulnerable.
Dec 2017 · 379
B R (O.K) E N
V Dec 2017
My mother taught me neglect
And my father taught me fear,
It's not something you can just "forget",
The source of my paim seems clear;
It tastes like love but it is not ,
I am one who has forgot,
To know what home is like and can be called,
It feels so real but sadly-it's false.
Childhood Trauma
Dec 2017 · 1.2k
Grave
V Dec 2017
I gave a part of me,
To everybody who needed it.
.
Now I am just a grave they keep digging deeper.*
.
Dec 2017 · 2.0k
Tide
V Dec 2017
Wear your scars like tattoos,
Let them remind you of the times you could've died,
But you learned to swim with the tide.
<3
Oct 2017 · 549
The Monarch
V Oct 2017
Since birth, I have been called "The Monarch."
Since birth I have been given wings,
Since birth I have been told being a caterpillar,
"Is unworthy of many things."

Now I am The Monarch,
Now I have many things,
But how I miss being the caterpillar,
And having my own wings.
Relating to Trauma.

In which case, my abusers molded me with the idea of perfection.
Seeking it has destoryed me beyond compare.

But that was my fault.
Oct 2017 · 269
Stars
V Oct 2017
I used to love the stars,
Until I started to d i s s a p e a r with them every morning.
.
.
.
</3
Oct 2017 · 1.8k
Woe and Behold
V Oct 2017
Behold the man who terrfies with power,
Behold the man who can **** a king with his glower.
All hail the man who has it all,
All hail the man who cannot fall.

Woe to the man who fears judgement day,
He paces and turns the clock off in fear driven rage.
Woe to the man who hides his pills from the other "eyes",
He sits vengeful at his past, masking it with every lie.
Woe to the man who doesn't sleep at night,
For he regrets selling is soul, he doesn't sleep in fright.
Woe to the men who are evil, for deep down they do not know,
Their sickness has overcome them, they aren't aware they are suffering, barely able to crawl.

Behold the one who sees it all,
It is I, the lowly, the injured, the small.
Behold the one with the love for the wolves when the world does not,
I love what the world only wishes to die and rot.
The evil are not born evil, some this truth is no option,
For many, "Go to hell, you deserve no love, you are just a toxcin."
I have grown to love what you consider "wicked",
Despite my life, I am the victim.
I can only love and forgive, no hatred after all these years,
I still pray for them, behind my bruises, scars and tears.

We could both debate, argue and try to pursuade, but I care too much, I will not lie behind hate.
Perhaps a weakness, call me pathetic,
but I was sent to heal the broken,
Even if it makes me just as sick.

Without a cure, how can we heal?
Without a heaven, there is only hell.

I fear the day when I am free,
I fear the day this chord is broken,
Killing them from me.
What will be left is me the murderer,
Me to mourn their decay;
And what will be left is just a dream, a blurr.
A pain I cannot bare to think it,
I cannot stomach that, not even for a bit.

So, woe and behold,
The evil, the sick,
Whom society and the mind is their virus,
A good soul their antibiotic.
Survivor of SRA/CSA and multiple traumas.
To my abusers, whom I could never find it in my heart to harbour hatred and vengence, for doing so would keep me not only prisoner, but blind.
Despite all the pain they have given me and the freedom, innocence, and stabilty I may never have again, I have learned to love and understand their pain deep inside.
What has made them, them today...
What has destroyed them.
I hated seeing that pain.
I have done everything I could to be what I believed "a cure" for their troubled hearts.
Who knows if what I did found them.

It kills me still that I don't feel "sane" without them, as if I killed them by escaping because at one time they said "we were one".
Yes, I still deal with heavy Stockholm Syndrome, but for me, loving and forgiving is what I will never not do.

As said, no one is born evil,
No one is born with a black heart.
I wished society can understand this,
but there is nothing more I can do.

To all surviors of all trauma large or small, May peace, happiness and freedom forever be with you. <3
Sep 2017 · 665
Sanitary
V Sep 2017
I love cleaning,
I need to clean.
From my hands to the walls,
Lysol, Windex, Disinfectants, Bleach.

Don't ask me why...
Don't say "But everything is already so spotless!"
Because friend, reality is one thing,
My mind is the mess.
OCD

It hurts, I am tired, but I can't stop.
Sep 2017 · 371
Tired
V Sep 2017
They say, "Skies the limit."

But I can't even lift my feet.
I have no motivation anymore.
Sep 2017 · 1.2k
Scars
V Sep 2017
Left over from the fear and pain, now the results across and all over my arms,
Oh, how on days that are the coldest, these scars have kept me warm.

Lines and lines of everything left unsaid,
From the deepest of emotions in turmoil, to the tears that soaked my bed.
A single blade to help me speak, to help me fight with insanity,
Who is it again now, that I am trying to free?

Maybe one day I won't have so many,
So many I cannot count,
Whoever is looking back in the mirror, is not me in a single doubt.
):
Relapsed.
Sep 2017 · 506
The Garden
V Sep 2017
My skin is like a garden, I keep digging up the dirt,
Just to see my red roses grow, and then hide them under a shirt.
I don't show my flowers to anyone, the beauty is just for me,
In other people's eyes, they are just some ugly, horrible weeds.
I don't like to dig up my garden;
But the ground will never be healed,
My roses are filled with darkness,
And nobody knows how I feel.
A hug, from and with all my heart to anyone who understands. <3
Sep 2017 · 473
The Church Of Thoughts
V Sep 2017
The man behind the window,
Watches the religious preachers pass,
"Oh no, not again..." he worries,
"Now what will they ask?"

He hides as if they do not know,
He ignores the world outside,
He stays silent and distant,
No, he isn't home, he denies.

The sound of his door-bell can be heard throughout his whole house,
This time it's louder than usual, like a cat yeowl to a mouse.

He stays put for one moment, then two, then three,
What he least expected was a knock now,
"Oh, please just let me be".
He was a good man, but his mind was his own,
But ****** would he be, to ignore another mans right to a speech.

Religious or solicitor, neighbor, family or friend,
He just couldn't help it, a voice was a voice to appreciate in the end.

Carefully he opened, the great, white door,
And there stood a couple, with a smile so genuine, not fake for sure.
"Hello! We are preachers of God's great word,
Would you care to listen please, Sir?"


Minutes was passed and the man listened closely,
He wasn't much of a religious follower,
He didn't understand what those words or verses mean.
Still he listened, to much of his own surprise,
He felt a sense of happiness, and no, he didn't have to lie.

He lived in great misery, alone, angry and afraid of the world,
He had grown irritable and distrusting,
His mind a constant bustling.

But to have a company, despite what he had been told,
Such religous faces, were not evil or cold.
They made him feel comforted, and to his surprise a sense of hope,
For a moment he felt his hands hold on tighter, to the end of his own rope.

When finally they finished they spoke softly,
"Sir would you be intersted, in perhaps a bible study?"
For a moment he considered it, but suddnely his thoughts came back,
They came upon him so quickly, like a startled heart-attack.

"You will have to excuse me, I must be going now..."
With that he closed the door, without another sound.
The couple confused, only turned silently and left,
While the man had slumped down against the door, a sad, tragic mess.

For you see he had felt hope, happiness, and a sense of great peace,
Whether that was from two people alone or spirtuality.
But somewhere inside him, the voices screamed out loud:
"You don't deserve God or anyone..."
He was hurt and blinded in a dark black cloud.

He sat and sobbed, for he felt it was unsafe to take anything or care,
"Who am I to anything in this world?
I don't deserve anything, not even God should want me here.
I am not worth that salvation, or a knock from anyone,
Not even Christ himself should love me or my "blood".
I have no family, friends or job of any kind,
Please, just let me be preached by the only church that is my mind."
Based on a True Story~

As someone who grew up in a religious family, I soon went my own ways when I got older, I lost and to admit, abandoned my faith and found it quiet dark on my own.

I have had a lot happen, and with mental illnesses that scream at you constantly about how unworthy you are of anything, even good hearted preachers, or loved ones seem like a threat.
Many times I have closed my own doors on people, acting as if I had it all together and I didn't need anything, more so God...
Only to find myself behind that door later, praying for a sign, a voice, something at all.

Depression has killed me and made me a very isolated and cold person at times...
And like this character in the poem, he is stuck to the only thing he knows, his mind, his "church of thoughts."

I don't know where I was going with this at first, and I am not exactly sure it even came out correctly...
But it found me now, in the middle of the night, wanting to be manifested.
Interpet it as you wish. :)
And no, this is nothing against religious ones or anything negative,
In my opinion and eyes, I hold a very deep respect and appreciation for those still in touch with a belief so strongly they want to share.
And many times, these people were the only ones who have helped me when I didn't even have to ask. :)

...
I love you all,
Religious or not. ❤

:)
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