Poets + Writers discussion

here you go!

thank youuu ! here’s a poem i wrote about my mental health!

Always the
savior,
never the
saved.

I am full of
emotions.
Too heavy for
me.

They used to feel
like sadness and
desperation.

Now, they feel
like rage.
Red, hot
rage.

I sit, throw, break, scream and
mend. But worst of all,
I cry.

Weak, pathetic,
dramatic, embarrassing,
disgusting.

Blood trickles down my thighs,
tears slip from my eyes.

Why? I cry.
Does humanity not see?
See the race I run,
the smile I fake,
the pain I face,
the steps I take?

Am I no more than a
supporting role, background,
small town actor in an
Oscar nominated film?

Take me back to my
innocence. Back before I
craved the sound of
skin tearing, the
feeling of the
cold, cold steel
sliding
against my scarred skin,
the feel of the blood
dripping.

The water burns my skin,
so my heart does not.
Yet, my eyes are still wet.
My heart hurts, heavy and full.
The last still stings,
shall I give you a reason to pack
all my things?
Stuff it all into boxes,
pack it tightly.

Give away what you please.
Shove the rest into an attic corner,
it is too new for you to deal,
you’ve never lost a child,
not this way, so it is raw,
and it is too much for you.

Do you feel it is your fault?
Do not question why,
as you read my
goodbye.

It was not you, I swear,
I tried to feel alive,
but I am, always was,
forever will be,
my own personal hell.

that's such a beautifully written, arresting poem. it hits so hard. i'm sorry you feel like this though 🫂

Sai.‧⊹°‧unpredictably semi ia·｡⊹ wrote: "that's such a beautifully written, arresting poem. it hits so hard. i'm sorry you feel like this though 🫂"

thank you, love. it’s ok, writing and sharing my story with others is helpful

it is <3 i'd be happy to read anything else you might want to share in the future as well

ok!! i have a few other poems i wrote <3

Lexi wrote: "thank youuu ! here’s a poem i wrote about my mental health!

Always the
savior,
never the
saved.

I am full of
emotions.
Too heavy for
me.

They used to feel
like sadness and
desperation.

Now, the..."

This is very emotional—wonderful narration and a beautiful poem. It truly touches the heart.”

thank you so much! it means so much to me

A child is born,
their father, loves their mother.
Their mother is a fist towards their father.

He drinks, and rocks and passes out on the porch,
in the snow,
blissfully unaware of why he is
sleeping, on your porch,
your bring him in.

You cover him up with the softest
most fullest blankie you can find.
You even give him your favorite stuffie,
so he isn’t scared, or alone.

You weren’t an idiot,
you knew she did not like him much,
the screaming,
the crying,

Worst of all,
the blaming.
According to your mother,
it was you who made their lives
so miserable.

Why? It’s impossible,
your tiny mind can’t process
how you caused it.

For years to come you believe
it was all
you,

You become
bitter.

Mean girl, they say
Scream profanities at you in the halls,
pull your hair, make you cry.

It is always “mean girl.” never
sad girl.
Never hurt girl,

I stare at the wall, in the dark.
I cry, cry, cry.
Until my eyes become heavy,
I go to sleep hoping,
maybe this will be the last
time.

To think this is the life for the many of us is nothing short of heartbreak. You are so strong. This hits too close to home. Those days will pass, just you wait :)

What does one do when
being “sober” isn’t an option.
When you need to feel
the cold metal
slip across skin.

What do you do
when your mother
yells and cries
“Not my baby”

You haven’t been called
that in fifteen
years.

You have not been
the baby of
anyone
for a very long time.

What does one do
when the world is
against you

The only thing by your side
is the one thing
you promised
to stop.

You told them you threw it away.
really, you slipped it in a small
felt pouch.
Just in case.

You didn’t intend to use it,
really, just in case though.

But you used it.
Again and
again.

Until your skin is not
a solid tan color.
There are strips of white and pink,
old and new,
thin and thick,
jagged and smooth.

What is wrong with me?
you ask God, he does not answer.
Your mother cries, your father does not know.
But the worst? Your teenage brother,
the one you raised.

He stares at you, on the floor, in the pool.
And he sits down next to you
and he holds you
rocks and cries, rocks and cries

Until it all
stops.

These are well written and you can feel your pain. Stay strong, you can and you will get through it!