Mental Health Poems

Of course I'm fine, why do you ask?
Oh, don't mind this, it's just my mask.
It hides the grief, it hides the strife.
I wear this mask to escape the knife.

Don't forget this, my pain is real.
I'm not lying, this is how I feel.
You sit there saying it can't be true.
It is for me, just not for you.

You say my heart must be a sight,
Cold as ice and black as night.
It's not my heart, only my soul,
But killing me must be your goal.

You're getting close, I hope you know.
You really don't have far to go.
Soon enough I'll reach my end.
You'll have my soul to tear and rend.

But you don't know, you never ask.
You never look beyond the mask.
The look on my face is giving me away.
I wonder now, what will you say?

You've asked me here; you'll know now.
I'll take it off, I'll take a bow...
I can't do it now, tell you the truth.
I must keep up my pretense of youth.

"Of course I'm fine, why do you ask?
Oh, don't mind this, it's just my mask."

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.

I'm breaking;
I can't be fixed.
I'm missing,
But I won't be missed.

Still shaking
From what I fear.
I can't let you in,
So don't come near.

I guess you're right;
I'm way too thin,
And I'm fighting a battle
That I'll never win.

I have so many flaws;
I don't know where to start
From my messed up hair
To my messed up heart.

So what's the point
To continue to fight?
When my restless days
Turn into restless nights.

This life hasn't been fair.
I can finally tell
That nobody cares,
And it hurts like hell.

I still don't understand
What was God's cause?
Why did He put me on earth
With all of my flaws?

Was I born just to die?
Am I part of a plan?
Made to finally see
That I won't die an old man.

I don't know how to live.
I have nothing to gain,
And all I want from you
Is to end all my pain.

I'm losing sight
Of what I've already seen.
I'm losing my grip,
And I'm barely seventeen.

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.

Just like a ghost
I drift through the days
Trying for reason
Thinking of ways.

Nothing changes
No matter how many pills I take
Give me numbness
And happiness I will fake

You don't pay attention
You don't even look
You don't glance
I'm an open book.

If you listened
You'd see who I really am
You'd know my pain
But turned away you stand

Eating disorders
And cutting deep
Everything is over
Nothing to keep

So when I die
You can have the guilt
Pay the price
Of the coffin you built

I'm done with tears
And everything more
This is the end
Of an open door.