TheTinGirl
Active Member
(Disclaimer: A lot of my poetry is dark and depressing...about 90% of it as a matter of fact. Sometimes there are triggering topics that go along with mental illness. I was wondering if I should add a trigger disclaimer if something includes like...Self Injury or drug use? Maybe I've just been on too many mental health boards where you're expected to walk on glass with everything you post? Your thoughts are appreciated. 
If you like darker stuff, I hope you enjoy it! P.s. I'm not really a miserable person, writing is just my outlet. So like...don't think I'm going to troll your posts with screaming bloody pictures and cryptic font.)
The silence surrounds me in his cold embrace.
Delicate thoughts carefully trudging forward...
Slipping through suicidal tears, so ready to jump.
The lack of light masks the imperfections of this broken-
Someone.
Holding everything between clumsy, shaken fingers.
Afraid to look away, afraid that it might fall.
The movie runs on, film catching on the few moments,
Where the air gets caught in my throat.
My spine curls to it's own fetal position,
When did my head get so heavy?
Full of clouded memories I thought I had repressed.
Dust blown off their scarred cases,
Letting the copper scent of fresh blood spill through.
Shaken sanity syndrome,
Ready to burst through the hole in my chest.
The fact that I can muster a smile, while holding so much in,
Is nothing short of miraculous.
The confusion becomes maddening,
For I no longer reside in this dark attic.
I have been shown a beautiful picture,
Managed the leap out of my own mental addict.
Still it seems there are smoke swirled hands that like to remind me-
You will always have this burden, this...
Chemical imbalance.
He will always whisper the soft nothings into your ear...
What choice do I have but to listen.
It would be easier to make myself physically deaf.
Perhaps a pen in each ear will do the trick?
Through the nose, my temples, my fingertips, my chest.
Where would I have left to feel?
I feel my knees get weak as he calls me.
For the gift of happiness must come the burden of despair.
The fear of desperation, of falling apart again.
The avoidance of mirrors, seeing as my own reflection-
Is in fact not my own.
It makes me sick, my stomach swirling and thrashing inside me.
I pray for silence in the darkness...
Though isn't that what got me here?
If you like darker stuff, I hope you enjoy it! P.s. I'm not really a miserable person, writing is just my outlet. So like...don't think I'm going to troll your posts with screaming bloody pictures and cryptic font.)The silence surrounds me in his cold embrace.
Delicate thoughts carefully trudging forward...
Slipping through suicidal tears, so ready to jump.
The lack of light masks the imperfections of this broken-
Someone.
Holding everything between clumsy, shaken fingers.
Afraid to look away, afraid that it might fall.
The movie runs on, film catching on the few moments,
Where the air gets caught in my throat.
My spine curls to it's own fetal position,
When did my head get so heavy?
Full of clouded memories I thought I had repressed.
Dust blown off their scarred cases,
Letting the copper scent of fresh blood spill through.
Shaken sanity syndrome,
Ready to burst through the hole in my chest.
The fact that I can muster a smile, while holding so much in,
Is nothing short of miraculous.
The confusion becomes maddening,
For I no longer reside in this dark attic.
I have been shown a beautiful picture,
Managed the leap out of my own mental addict.
Still it seems there are smoke swirled hands that like to remind me-
You will always have this burden, this...
Chemical imbalance.
He will always whisper the soft nothings into your ear...
What choice do I have but to listen.
It would be easier to make myself physically deaf.
Perhaps a pen in each ear will do the trick?
Through the nose, my temples, my fingertips, my chest.
Where would I have left to feel?
I feel my knees get weak as he calls me.
For the gift of happiness must come the burden of despair.
The fear of desperation, of falling apart again.
The avoidance of mirrors, seeing as my own reflection-
Is in fact not my own.
It makes me sick, my stomach swirling and thrashing inside me.
I pray for silence in the darkness...
Though isn't that what got me here?
