Mental Illness Poems - Page 2

I know you may not think so,
But I'm trying really hard.
I don't do it on purpose.
I did not pick this card.

I'm trying my very best
To get this hurtle jumped,
But no one else is there
To help me out of this slump.

I don't know what you want from me.
Give me a hint or clue.
Please give me a sign.
I don't know what to do.

If you only knew
How much I struggle in this war,
Maybe you would be there
To pick me up off the floor.

It's time to stop pretending,
Time to open up your eyes,
To give me a hand
Instead of looks and sighs.

It's not that I don't love you,
And it's not that I don't care.
The fact is I need help too;
I need somebody there.

Is there anyone there
to help me see,
help me remember,
remember to be me?

For I feel like now
I am someone else,
and I need some help
to find myself.

Sometimes my thoughts
might drift away
with the empty look
I may portray.

You think I'm doing nothing,
but I'm doing my best
to put my busy mind
to rest.

Always so tired
trying to find the strength
and keeping my loved ones
at arm's-length.

Never wanting
my family to see
that a once happy woman
has turned into me.

Anxiety,
I'm miserable because of you,
making plans and not following through.

You have me feeling as though I am alone.
I don't feel safe unless I'm at home.

I see a stranger on the street,
want to say hi but too scared to speak.

What are they staring at?
Something must be wrong...
Is there a stain on my shirt?
Is my nose too long?

I'm shaking, find an exit, I must retreat!
Here they come! Here they come!
Quick, I must flee!

People keep telling me that I am fine
but I am not,
not in my mind.

A lump in my throat makes it so hard to swallow.
Pains in my chest consume me with sorrow.
I lay awake, restless, hoping maybe,
just maybe this will all be gone
tomorrow.

Little Schizophrenic Girl, heavily medicated so she can't feel the pain.
She will never leave that hospital, never again feel snow or rain.

Tears rolled down my cheek the very first time I looked into her blue eyes.
3 a.m. she's in the hallway hugging an old woman while she cries.

The mental hospital is a holding cell for God's rejects,
A place you will feel nothing but sadness and neglect.

Only 17 years old, a beautiful young girl so sweet and innocent,
Doing life for a crime she didn't commit, there was no sin committed to repent.

Just the way things are, that was 11 years ago and it still hurts me.
A wonderful heart with a tortured mind, something I wish I didn't see.

It still weighs heavy on my heart, it still makes me cry.
I can't forget the sadness I felt the first time I looked into her glassy eyes.

I'm not sure she knew where she was, never be someone's girlfriend or wife,
'Cause she'll never leave that wing of the mental hospital; she'll never experience life.

How can the hospital workers have the strength to do that job?
They're trying to help the cursed, while other lazy people steal and rob.

She barely ate, the medication took away her sense of taste.
I don't think she even knew where she was; counseling sessions were a waste.

A living, breathing, caring heart, a mind with no thoughts like she's brain dead.
The emotions were unbearable, never comprehended a word she said.

Don't worry, you'll feel bliss in heaven, because you were tortured in this world.
I'm still praying for you, Little Schizophrenic Girl.

I hear them there every day.
Why will they not go away?
They tell me that I'll be betrayed.
Will it really be that way?

They fill my brain with thoughts and doubts.
Will I ever make it out
Of the hell that I am in?
I don't think I'll ever win.

I'm sure they've taken over me.
The voices make me want to flee.
They make me want to cry inside,
but I know that I can't hide.

Brian and I were polar opposites; he was loud and wild while I was more quiet and tame.
Despite our differences, both family and friends said we often looked and acted exactly the same.

I never understood it. My skin was unremarkable, nothing more than the average bruise.
Parts of Brian were mutilated. Years later he covered half his upper body with tattoos.

We were friends as long as we could remember. We were both trapped in a world we viewed as a prison.
We even grew to like the same type of girls. In our twenties we even dated two of the same women.

Brian and I met in Queens in the 1980s, both turned 21 in Ohio and toasted with our first beers.
I stayed in Ohio while Brian moved back to New Jersey for a number of years.

I had a normal life filled with normal experiences, Brian was much different.
I always made the attempt to be social, whereas Brian preferred to stay distant.

He introduced me to this little schizophrenic girl. He said she represents what he didn't think was real.
It was a few days after, he called me telling me he had become too numb to feel.

I gave Brian advice. I told him to move back to Jersey because you can't achieve what you don't try.
Brian did. When he came back, he told me when you lose the ability to feel you lose the ability to cry.

I lived a pretty normal life. I eventually found peace, although it took a while.
Brian only saw pain. He said the top of his cheeks hurt when he used to try to smile.

Even Brian didn't know when things changed, but he knew when his health went downhill.
The medication caused weight gain and disease. In the psychiatric world, hope is in the form of a pill.

I started to see Brian a lot more. Unforeseen stress changed his personality drastically.
I even started to see Brian different. It's as if he lived in a different galaxy.

Brian's mood swings became unbearable. He lost all but a few friends.
Brian can't see his own problems, but I assured him I'll be here til the end.

I often wonder what changed in him that made him change.
Was he made this way by a person, or is part of his brain just deranged?

I see scenarios where Brian would be happy. Why can't he?
There really is hope outside of those pills. Why can't he see?

Brian's tattoos started to reflect themes of distrust and betrayal.
Brian said he'd talk about his wanting to die more often, but he didn't want to seem ungrateful.

I knew human beings had good in them. Brian knew they did not.
I want to help people. Brian wants to watch your lying corpse rot.

I told Brian these doctors mean it when they swear to do no harm.
Brian said, "That ignorance is why I stabbed you in the arm."

Neither one of us could agree, because neither one of us could see
That there never was a "we," that I was Brian, and Brian was me.

It's not an addiction,
Really it's not.
But that mirror,
It's a source of affliction.

Not long ago,
I could look in that mirror
And see nothing wrong at all,
But now I've got nothing to show.

The pressure to be perfect,
It tears away at my body.
At first it looked like nothing,
But it had a side effect.

I wanted to be one of them,
One of those girls everyone envied.
But the price to pay was my body,
Not a small pretty diamond gem.

It was never enough,
No matter what I did.
The skipped meals
Turned my image rough.

But will it ever be worth it?
I stare and ask myself.
My image in the mirror,
Kept begging just to quit.

It became a nightly thing,
Standing on that scale.
And I was pleased to see
That the pounds kept dropping.

My hair was starting to thin.
My bones began to show.
Everything was different.
The desire was starting to win.

The pain I was putting myself through,
The constant suffering,
Everything was just a blur,
But nobody ever knew.

I don't starve anymore,
But I could if I tried.
It was a part of my life,
Now just a closed door.

It's not an addiction,
Really, it's not.
But that mirror,
It's a source of affliction.

No words can describe what I feel when I look at you.
The glory of your smile brings light to this place.
So simple yet so impossible to understand.
Every move you make is taken in with grace.

How could someone not want you in their life?
Like you were sent from a movie scene.
How could they just throw it all away,
Not thinking of what that could mean?

Your eyes capture mine in a second to spare.
I absorb your innocence that is ever so new.
I get lost in your soul so freely unveiled
As you gaze at me with your baby blues.

An unsettling feeling resides in my head,
One that I've been trying to forget.
A little version of myself walking around;
I guess I haven't gotten used to that yet.

I'm afraid you'll turn into me one day in the future. 
That's a risk I can't afford to gamble on.
I want you to have a fair chance from the start.
I wish for you to paint a picture not already drawn.

But then I think about the love I'd share,
The good, the bad, and everything between.
I would show you this life's possibilities.
Maybe it could be different if I hadn't seen...

Your baby blues staring back to me,
Making my choice appear to be clear.
But that feeling still shakes my bones.
The only time it stops is when I hold you near.

Questions bounce back and forth in my brain.
Do you deserve this life or are the stakes too high?
Consequently my fear could turn into reality,
But who would I be if I could never even try?

I just have to look in those baby blues
And all my worries will fade into the night.
You have all the answers in your heart.
I'm trusting you that it's gonna be all right.

It's something to be cherished:
The joy you bring to this world everyday.
Run my fingers through your thin hair.
Listen closely so you can hear me say,

"Baby blue eyes,
You light up the skies.
I don't think you realize,
But you are everything and anything."

Another option I would choose
If it weren't for your baby blues.

If one day, I could have a helium balloon,
And be carried away with just one little bloom,
The petals sweep around me, light enough to fly,
So little to eat, surprised I did not die,

Golden dreams are made of these,
Glory to the small and frail,
Light as a feather, thin as a rail.
Light as a feather, thin as a rail.

A hallucination of mine to fly,
To be carried off with a sunset lullaby,
Just imagination I fear,
Thinner and closer every year,

Until I blow away with the breeze,
I wonder who would follow me,
A girl swept so serene,
A beautiful dream,

Golden dreams are made of these,
Glory to the small and frail,
Light as a feather, thin as a rail.
Light as a feather, thin as a rail.

Take a step back,
Learn how to breathe.
Take a step back
And just be.
Observe in silence.
Take things in.
Despite what's goes on,
Trust what's within.

She is skillful at deceiving.
No one even has a clue.
Her pretty words are weaving
Throughout the souls of me and you,
But in the late parts of the evening,
When her mind is way past due,
The skin of hers starts bleeding
And her act becomes askew.
Her eyes are actually pleading,
Saying her words aren't always true,
And her heart is really needing
Life to begin anew.
So if at night you see her sneaking,
Hold her till the morning's hue,
Because her heart is barely beating,
And she doesn't know if she'll make it through.