Here are a few more posts for the Nat'l Poetry Month contest. Have you sent in your submission? You have until the end of the month.  Click here for info about how to enter and PRIZES: http://samanthaschutz.net/site/?p=597

 

MAW, age 18 

 

My hands shake    

Violently   

My body turns itself into a    

Rocking chair   

My legs    

Bounce   

I sit in this stall   

Rocking   

Shaking   

Bouncing   

I huddle over   

My breasts brush against my thighs   

And I rock   

And I beg myself to breathe   

And I beg myself to stop these tears   

And I dare not make a sound   

Not even a   

Gasp   

Because there's this paranoia that if I do a   

Gasp   

Will turn into a   

Whisper   

Which will turn into a small   

Whimper   

Which will morph into a   

Cry   

Which will heighten to a   

Sob   

Which becomes a   

Wail   

Which finally creates a    

Shriek a   

Scream a   

Sound    

That is so loud that it'll simply   

Take over everything and never   

Stop.  

   

Monday is bad.   

I'm starting to loose track of when they start.   

I hate it when they ask me   

"When did the attack start?"   

because I never have a clear answer   

for them   

or even myself.   

I've given up on trying to tell myself   

that this is tied to a certain class   

and I'm tired of wondering what   

the precedent is.   

When I leave in the middle of class   

I want to give up completely   

on ever trying to leave my room again   

because nothing ever seems worth    

this struggle.  

   

I go to the counselors office   

and I crumble in the chair   

and start sobbing.   

I want nothing more than to run away   

to run into traffic   

or maybe off a bridge.   

I tell him that I'm having suicidal thoughts   

and that I have urges.   

I tell him I'm scared   

because I know that this   

isn't me.   

He writes this all down   

I know that he is staring at me   

and I want to scream at him to   

advert his eyes   

to not look at me.   

It's making me nervous,   

and I feel like his eyes are judging.   

He tells me that he needs to call my parents   

because I'm having these thoughts.   

That makes me cry harder   

because I don't want them to know this.  

   

I    

want   

crave   

need   

bliss.  

   

The Celexa   

gives me   

Hell.   

I mistakenly went off it   

because I forgot to refill my prescription   

and then I went back on   

full strength.   

I    

want   

to   

die.   

I cry   

more than I'm    

not   

and I'm tearing up my skin   

with my knife.   

I wake up   

and I cry   

and then I scream   

because something inside me is dying   

and it's releasing a poison   

that's leaving me dead.   

All I can do   

is stare lifelessly    

at the world    

and wait for time    

to pass me by.  

   

Zoloft   

is better.   

I feel as though the curtains are opening   

and my depression   

doesn't seem as smothering   

and my "death"   

doesn't feel permanent.   

For the first time today   

I saw Brad   

and I cried   

because in the first time   

in what feels like never   

I feel so   

alive   

and an overwhelming    

amount of love    

and life   

pounds through my veins.   

I can only kiss him   

and I didn't realize how much    

I missed him   

this past month   

even though   

he's been by my side   

this whole time.  

   

Bliss    

is fearing less   

and loving   

more.   

For the first time   

in my life   

I feel    

alive.   

The future   

doesn't feel    

unreachable   

but instead   

it's around the corner   

filled with    

love   

life   

and art.   

I began drawing   

the panic attacks   

my tears   

becoming the   

paper   

and my fear   

becoming the colors   

and ever since   

I've let it out   

I feel as though   

it's not a burden    

but instead something to harden   

this weak shell   

and instead of making me permeable   

it's letting me bend   

with every curve   

of my life.  

   

I'm still   

afraid   

of leaving my bed.   

But I remember the depression   

and of how I died   

and that scares me more.   

I'm terrified    

of these panic attacks   

but I'm terrified   

of fear more.   

I may never be   

free   

of anxiety   

and there are days when I just   

cry.   

I'm nothing more   

than a girl   

who fears much   

but loves more.   

This is   

enough   

because I know   

that I'll wake up   

and have the   

bliss   

that I didn't have   

before.   

Alyssa H., age 17

HURT   

Hurt,rejected,depressed
are ways of how people hurt today,each day of our lives
They hurt others around them to take away the pain.
by taking there emotions and dumping them onto someone else,
pushing their wait onto someone else's shoulders.
they cut to take away the pain
but in the end it was a total waste
Hurt,rejection and depression starts all over again.
hurt is what every one in the world feels,
no one lives without pain,
Its everywhere
 
 
E. Hall

So Much Hate

 

Whites against Blacks

Daughters against mothers

Sons against fathers

Brothers against sisters.

 

Why so much hate?

 

Where is the love for one another

Where the morals and the guidance?

Where is the unity and peace?

Where is the security and brotherhood?

 

Where is this nation headed?

 

When will be united as one family

When will prejudice and racism be erased?

When will neighbor truly love his neighbor?

When will Martin L. King Jr.'s  dream come true?

 

It starts with the golden rule,

 

"Loving others as you love yourself."