Mental Illness Poems - Page 4

61 - 80 of 81 Poems

61. Colors Fall
- By Judith Chiorazzi
- Published by Family Friend Poems April 2017
I am a 55-year-old transplanted up-state New Yorker who migrated to Garden City, Kansas, in 1983. A tree hugger and nature lover since childhood, I fell in love with the stark beauty of the Kansas Plains. I am disabled with a diagnosis of borderline personality disorder, and Kansas has been my "healing land" where I have found both recovery and despair. One day in February, while riding the bus home, I was experiencing a serious depression, which is when this poem came about.

How Mental Illness Changes Your Perspective

I hate the way the colors seem to me now,
In dead of winter.
They fade away with every choice I make.
The only honest hues I spy

I hate the way the colors seem to me now,
In dead of winter.
They fade away with every choice I make.
The only honest hues I spy
Are the cotton candy blues and pinks
Of winter sky,
And the messy, dingy grey
Of melted snow on lonely sidewalks...

Only a miracle now will transform
My bewildered pea-sized brain
Into a healthy clicking mind again.
The thoughts that do come are
Circular and slow.
Where have all the wild roses gone?
I miss their color constantly.
Like merry mauve and
Startling pink signposts,
They pointed the way to a kinder,
More accepting world--a world where
I once belonged.

In winter, colors fall away, hope fades,
And the mentally ill, (myself included),
Hide ourselves away in dark caves of despair,
Our thoughts trembling and weak,
Our imagined sins the only crimson spot
In a tumbling, jumbled up,
Colorless world...
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62. For A While
- By Zoe Frances
- Published by Family Friend Poems November 2011
Wrote this for all the days lying on my floor with my eyes closed, embracing the nothingness and it's silence, wishing I could fall asleep and never wake up.

Hours are swallowed, listless
Weightless waves of soft nothingness
Sleepy hanging bulb, dimming
Images begin to drop, with your lids

Hours are swallowed, listless
Weightless waves of soft nothingness
Sleepy hanging bulb, dimming
Images begin to drop, with your lids
Lashes stick together, pressing contact
Like dry leaves to your skin.
And I know, I know you can't bear waking
The flashy, plangent lives, your own
Raspy shrieks of every day's ache
Make you ill.
Your hurt that never shows itself
Is quiet in its dormancy
For a while.
And I'm sorry, I'm so sorry
That this timelessness will end
Like everything else
Like everything else,
The analgesics are fading
As a laugh from years ago.
The humming walls of your sad palette,
Grow deafening.
And your hurt that never shows itself
Make me ill.
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63. The Pit
- By Jacob Kahn
- Published by Family Friend Poems May 2014
I have struggled with depression, as well as many other disorders, from a very young age. This poem depicts one of my frequent bouts of depression. The conclusion is not necessarily a happy ending. The relief experienced is but a brief oasis in a vast desert of a messed up brain.

Struggling With Depression Yet Refusing To Give Up

I sit alone in the dark.
The sun is shining, birds chirping, children playing,
But all that surrounds me is darkness.
Every time someone says, "Cheer up,"

I sit alone in the dark.
The sun is shining, birds chirping, children playing,
But all that surrounds me is darkness.
Every time someone says, "Cheer up,"
I sink deeper into my pit.
The hole my brain has dug for itself.
The serotonin that refuses to pass through my synapses.
This is depression,
The unspoken disease.
I sink deeper in my pit.
People tell you to "be happy," "smile more," "just get out of the house," "you're holding yourself back."
I smile and say, "I'll try. Thanks," and give a little chuckle.
What an act!
I suffer alone.
I do not want their useless words.
They do not understand.
How could they?
I sink deeper in my pit.
My eyes close and I picture respite.
But in this dream, there are pills, ropes, knives, chemicals, and ledges.
No, that won't do. But it sounds so nice.
I sink deeper into my pit.
The light is gone. I sleep all day.
The dream world is where I am happy.
Away from people.
Away from life.
I sink deeper into my pit.
Colors are nonexistent.
Black and white are my world--minus the white.
Snowballing through gritty streets,
Turning the pristine ball of hope into a filthy mound of broken dreams.
I sink deeper in my pit.
Depression stays by my side.
My only friend.
But this friend, well,
He is the one who talks behind your back.
The one who makes fun of you to get ahead.
This is the guy who pushes you to the ground and then laughs.
This is the one who you cling onto because you have no one else.
I sink deeper in my pit.
I finally muster up the courage.
I scream for help.
But by now, no one can hear me.
No one wants to hear me.
I have pushed them all away.
Why am I still here?
Because I don't want to die.
But I do.
I am so confused.
Death greets me when I knock on his door.
I meant to play ding dong ditch.
But no, Death has seen me.
He says, "My turn," and gives me a knife.
The knife is white like an angel.
So full of innocence. Made for chopping carrots for a stew.
I am to taint this knife with my blood.
The blood of depression.
I sink deeper in my pit.
Death winks and says, "Let's pick up the pace. I don't have all day."
I reply, "You're right, neither do I."
So I hand him the knife.
I say, "I'll see you another day."
I wonder why I turned down that sweet, sweet offer.
I see my mom. She is finally breathing.
No air had passed through her lungs while I was gone.
Someone cares.
I see a rope crawling down my pit.
I grab hold and shout, "I'm ready."
I ascend the walls of my pit, slowly.
It takes years.
I meet therapists and friends who care.
I talk to my past and say, "Go away."
I am still climbing.
This is a journey.
I get so tired, sometimes slipping back.
But I hold on tight.
I don't let go.
I don't give up.
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64. My Ritual
- By Donna Jozwiak
- Published by Family Friend Poems June 2011
I have dissociative identity disorder. I "lose time," not knowing where I went or what I was doing there. My husband continually worries what might happen to me, what I may do to myself, and if I will be successful next time I try to take my life?
I can never sleep for long, I have horrific nightmares of the abuse I suffered as a child and adult. So instead of sleeping, I sit and watch and listen, trying to feel safe.

Poem About Waiting For Sleep

In the early hours,
As most should be sleeping,
I sit in our bedroom window and perform a ritual.
Smoking a cigarette, wrapped tightly in a blanket,

In the early hours,
As most should be sleeping,
I sit in our bedroom window and perform a ritual.
Smoking a cigarette, wrapped tightly in a blanket,
I watch.
I watch you toss and turn, breathing heavily, in and out.
I imagine your dreams, your tremors.
I'm careful not to wake you.
Sometimes I walk over to you and touch your hair,
And pray that it is not me that keeps you here in this prison.
The anxiousness shows, reflected even as you sleep,
Worries too heavy for you to even confess to me.
You sleep on, albeit fitfully,
Not aware of my nightly ritual of watching you.
Careful not to disturb...
While you try with all your subconscious might,
To dream away losing me,
To dream away the certainty of my death.
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65. Depression
- By Hayley
- Published by Family Friend Poems January 2012
Depression, I Feel Like I Can't Take It Anymore.

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

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.
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66. Space
- By Cory Osborne
- Published by Family Friend Poems July 2012
This is just me attempting to describe what my depression is like to other people, it's very hard to do, but I tried! Also, even though God is mentioned in this poem, I'm not religious...

Poem About How Depression Feels

Like being lost without being found,
Like being locked in a dungeon,
Like falling from a great height,
Like a full stop....

Like being lost without being found,
Like being locked in a dungeon,
Like falling from a great height,
Like a full stop.

You carry on regardless,
Through the never-ending,
Restless dreaming,
Turn and toss.

Following the gifted,
The special, the wonderful,
The ones who never know,
Why are they blind to sight?

Lead you into the night,
The moon shaded in,
The wind is screaming madness,
Please, God, let me in -
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67. Voices
- By Joanna
- Published by Family Friend Poems July 2012
I know a lot of people deal with anorexia and they hear that little voice called Ana in their head, telling them what to eat, when to purge, counts the calories for you, but for me Ana has becomes more than that, she tells me what to do, what to feel, how to act, what to eat, she reminds me that I am a mess because I know she is right, I do deserve it, sometimes I hate her and I just want her out of my head, but at the end I need her more than ever

Poem About Anorexia

Flashbacks run through my mind
My hands find their way to my hair
They grab, pull, scratch
"STOP IT!" I try to scream

Flashbacks run through my mind
My hands find their way to my hair
They grab, pull, scratch
"STOP IT!" I try to scream
The flashbacks keep coming
The razor
The blood
The madness...
"You deserve it"
I know
"I have to remind you, that you are a mess"
I know, I'm sorry
"Smile, do not let them see you broken"
I smile, I know you are right Ana
You control my life
Not only you control what I eat, but what I do, what I feel
"You are worthless"
I feel worthless
"Purge those calories you eat, you do not need more food in that fat body"
I purge, loving and hating the sensation
I try to sleep, but the flashbacks would not let me
Leave me alone!
Please...
"No, you deserve all of this"
I HATE YOU, GET OUT OF MY HEAD!
"Never you need me, you want me, you love me"
I do, I know
I go to bed and prepare myself for my same routine for tomorrow
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68. Dearest Routine
- By Joanna
- Published by Family Friend Poems January 2012
It started as a way to release my emotions, a few nights I started telling myself that I needed to do it more often, that I needed to do it every night, as the punishment I deserved, for being imperfect, for never being good enough, for being myself

Hitting Herself

Lost
I feel lost
It has become a routine
At night, in a dark, small room, a scared girl is struggling with her own emotions...

Lost
I feel lost
It has become a routine
At night, in a dark, small room, a scared girl is struggling with her own emotions
Dealing with her own fears
Her own imperfections
She gets up, does what she's told
She exercises until she collapses
Then she proceeds to hit herself as hard as she can as a punishment
The punishment she deserves
For not being good enough
For not exercising enough
For being too damn weak
For being herself
Bruises are never made
And that just makes her feel worse
Because she know she's not strong enough
Because she know she can't even hurt herself when she wants to
Because she has failed once again
Just like always
She tries to sleep, but the flashbacks keep coming
They don't let her sleep
They won't let her sleep
She needs sleep
But once she closes her eyes, it all starts again
Just another way to punish herself
And the worst part?
She knows too damn well she deserves it
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69. Insane?
- By Ophelia
- Published by Family Friend Poems July 2012
So, I had to write a poem for school. I couldn't think of anything to write, so I waited and waited. Then, one day, I was thinking about schizophrenia and how sad of an illness it is. So, I wrote a poem about it. I think it rambles a little, but I would love some feedback.

Poem About Schizophrenia

Insane?
Hallucinations and voices.
I think I'm seeing
Something now....

Insane?
Hallucinations and voices.
I think I'm seeing
Something now.
Look! There it is.
What?
You can't see it?
No, I swear
I'm not insane.
It's right there!
A little girl,
Black hair,
Victorian dress.
She's looking at us,
From across the hall.
She's mumbling something.
As she walks closer.
Where is she going?
I think she's coming,
Towards us.
Wait!
Where did you go?
Please don't leave!
Oh no,
The little girl.
She has a knife.
Please come back!
I need your help!
Where did you go?
You just disappeared.
The girl,
I can hear her now.
She's mumbling about
Death
She's lifting the knife.
Where are you?
I need you now.
She's attacking me.
Now, everything's growing
Blurry and dark.
All I feel is a searing pain
All over my body
You left though.
To save yourself.
You let her attack me.
I can't stay awake
Any longer.
Why are the lights so bright?
I only closed my eyes for a minute
They claim I'm in the hospital
They think I tried to kill myself
I told them about you
And the girl
But they don't believe me
Instead, they sent me away.
To a white rubber room
I have a special jacket
It lets me hug myself
They claim I'm insane.
Beyond repair.
They say you aren't real
Nor, is the girl.
They say I have
Schizophrenia
But, you can prove them wrong.
Just introduce yourself.
I've tried to introduce you.
But, they all look at me,
With pity covering their features.
Please, just say hello.
Then, they'll know, that you're real.
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70. Lost
- By Elizabeth Bailey
- Published by Family Friend Poems April 2011
Usually when I write, it all just comes to me. I went through a time when I was not myself and was really sad, so I began to think too much. Then I just decided to write it all down. Not all of it is necessarily true, I just write because I love to.

Poem About Feeling Lost And Desperate

It's like I'm a hundred different people
I never have it all figured out
I don't think I ever will
Maybe I have myself all wrong...

It's like I'm a hundred different people
I never have it all figured out
I don't think I ever will
Maybe I have myself all wrong
Thinking about it my heart wants to stop
I just want to rest
This fresh start is a runaway in disguise
I'm weak, I will not face anything
You can knock me down,
I guarantee you I won't get up
I'm struggling to take a deep breath
My lungs will soon give up
Well what are you waiting for?
Help me load this gun,
Guide me to the top of this building
And watch me fall
I'm lost and no one will shine a light
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71. Feeling
- By Monica J Abrica
- Published by Family Friend Poems July 2014
I am a single mother of 3 boys, and this poem was written in 2006 when I was in my most depressed state and before I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. Writing was the only thing that kept me alive for my children. I fought a constant battle with myself for them. I attempted suicide a few times but luckily never did enough damage to end my life. I am now 36 and am no longer suicidal. I still suffer from depression but, I am now receiving the help I needed.

Poem About Fighting Bipolar Disorder For Children's Sake

Life is hard to live sometimes when the light inside no longer shines.
Everything around becomes so dark, I grab a knife to leave a mark!
It makes me feel alive again! Replacing fear and doubts with pain!
I hope to fill the emptiness, I fight to end my loneliness. ...

Life is hard to live sometimes when the light inside no longer shines.
Everything around becomes so dark, I grab a knife to leave a mark!
It makes me feel alive again! Replacing fear and doubts with pain!
I hope to fill the emptiness, I fight to end my loneliness.
I start to drink my pain away, drowning sorrow day to day.
I quickly want to end my life! I sit alone holding the knife.
Failure now consumes my heart, hate and love tear me apart!
The fear and pain control my mind, the hate inside me leaves me blind.
The bit of love I feel, I fear, it's for my boys, it's why I'm here.
It's for their love that I remain, although I fear I am insane!
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72. Daddy, I Dream About What Could Have Been
- By Debbie Leads
- Published by Family Friend Poems December 2007
A wishful letter of what could have been

Daddy, it never occurred to me.
That you might die without changing your ways.
I guess it was the little girl in me.
That always thought that you'd change someday....

Daddy, it never occurred to me.
That you might die without changing your ways.
I guess it was the little girl in me.
That always thought that you'd change someday.

You'd change and become that father I always wished for,
You'd give me advice, love me unconditionally
You'd make me proud to tell people who you were
And you'd also be proud of me.

I'd look forward to being with you,
And you'd look forward to time with me,
You'd plan neat outings
Or we'd just watch TV

We'd look forward to vacations
With stability and peace of mind
We'd all want to go
Nobody would be left behind

You'd be sad when I got married
Because my time you'd have to share
Walking me down the aisle would be tough,
Almost too much to bare.

You'd go to church to pray for us
A family man you'd be
You'd know all about me
Including all of my dreams

Still, inside, I know that you cared about me
A few good things I remember
But I wish with regards to mental illness
That you would not have just surrendered.

It's easy to point fingers at you,
Again and again and again
It's also easy for me
to dream about what could have been.

From your daughter, Debbie
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73. Living A Suicide
- By Joanna
- Published by Family Friend Poems October 2012
I was thinking about life, it's all fake, plastic, pretending, it's just facts.

I can do nothing
Cause I'm good at nothing
I just sit and watch
As others succeed...

I can do nothing
Cause I'm good at nothing
I just sit and watch
As others succeed
I'm invisible, useless
I'm laughing, falling
I'm alive, dead inside
I'm everything I'm not
I'm not everything I am
Crashing, falling, slipping
On thin ice, that line broke
Real and human
Fake and broken
Fact of life: We all die
Live it happy, live it grand
Live it like a suicide
Every day I pretend
Fake that smile, bloody, dead
Doesn't matter, it's all just fake
It's all plastic, wild and dead
Living in a schizophrenic world
Plastic world, scary world
Dying young, living dead?
Lifeless body, it's all facts
I live in a suicide
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74. Am I Alone
- By Siobhan Green
- Published by Family Friend Poems August 2008
A heartbreaking portrayal of mental Illness

I get a funny feeling,
it comes from deep inside.
I get all mad and angry,
wanting to go and hide....

I get a funny feeling,
it comes from deep inside.
I get all mad and angry,
wanting to go and hide.

My doctor calls it depression,
my dad says it's just me.
But the thoughts and feelings,
no one will ever be able to see.

Some say I'm psycho,
some say I'm just weird.
It's like I'm a different person,
and the old me just disappeared.

I get really edgy,
I want to commit suicide real bad.
Then I get a headache,
followed by feeling sad.

I wish I could get help,
I wish it would go away.
Maybe if I keep praying real hard,
it will some day.

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75. Ice And Salt
- By Joanna
- Published by Family Friend Poems July 2012
I've dealt with self harm all my life
Cutting, anorexia, bulimia, burning myself
They're my release
And it's just too beautiful and too sad at the same time
That poetry just comes easily

Ice and salt
They're my addiction
Ice and salt
Take away the pain...

Ice and salt
They're my addiction
Ice and salt
Take away the pain
Ice and salt
Make me smile again

I put the ice
I put the salt
And I feel myself drown
In my own long sorrow

The scars are there
And they won't fade
The burn, the pain, sweet, sweet pain

I'm too lost now to be saved
They tell me I'm crazy
But I'm just numb
Wanting to feel
The pain and the burn

Ice and salt
Oh dear old friend
Ice and salt
Saving me from myself
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76. My Reflection
- By Syd W.
- Published by Family Friend Poems August 2011
Poem About Bulimia

Mirror oh mirror
You're ruining my life
You make me go into
The kitchen and grab......

Mirror oh mirror
You're ruining my life
You make me go into
The kitchen and grab...
A knife

When I look in you
I see a fat pig
But others tell me
I'm becoming a twig

I know there lying
What I see is true
I can't handle the pain
So I punch myself until
The bruises turn blue

You say
I'm at my average weight
But I don't want
To live that lifestyle
I want to be dangerously skinny
and when I achieve my goal
Then you will see me smile
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77. I Need You
- By Kelly
- Published by Family Friend Poems November 2013
This poem I wrote feels close to my heart. It's not professional, but is truely felt. I have family with mental and physical health problems And in my job it's what I care for.

Poem From The Perspective Of The Mentally Ill

Can you hear, I need you
I promise I'm trying call aloud
Can you see, I need you
I promise I'm trying wave my hand...

Can you hear, I need you
I promise I'm trying call aloud
Can you see, I need you
I promise I'm trying wave my hand
Can you feel, I need you
I promise I'm trying to touch your arm
Can you tell, I need you
I promise I'm not calm

I sit in the corner silent and still,
People see I'm mentally ill,
Physically gone,
Actions, I have none
But I promise I'm not gone

So next time I need you,
Remember to take time
As I may not be perfect but I'm still alive
Years of hope, times of regret
We all live for the future,
Destiny takes care of the rest
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78. Screams Drag Me Under
- By Tiffany Lane
- Published by Family Friend Poems August 2011
Most people don't understand the extremity of depression. This doesn't even begin to describe what I go through every day. But, it's at least a glimpse into my mind.

Depression

This can't be real
This pain I feel
I'm in a dark cave
All alone never to be saved...

This can't be real
This pain I feel
I'm in a dark cave
All alone never to be saved

Won't somebody find me?
Open my eyes, let me see
Bring me back into the light
Into happiness and what's right

I hide myself under a pile of lies
So no one sees the secrets behind these immortal eyes

No one understands and they never will
Why my life is like a big long bill
I have to pay the price of living
It's myself that I am giving

Depression is what drags me under
Why can't they hear my screams I wonder
I'm screaming to you
Please help me through

There has to me more than this
Somewhere out there, there must be bliss
But until I find it I am here
In this pool of unforgiving tears.
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I loved some of the phrases you used. This definitely inspired my newest artwork!

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79. The Third Man Is New
- By Jo
- Published by Family Friend Poems June 2010
This poem is about my relationship with my father, having discovered that he had schizophrenia and the abandonment after this realization.

Schizophrenia

I promise I will be there.
Words with empty meaning, words screaming through the halls of my mind as they make their course.
I know he lies.
I know I won't see him until the echo is heard, until the message smacks the back of the wall. Not the wall of innocence though. ...

I promise I will be there.
Words with empty meaning, words screaming through the halls of my mind as they make their course.
I know he lies.
I know I won't see him until the echo is heard, until the message smacks the back of the wall. Not the wall of innocence though.
Can one echo pass through two circles at once?
I wait. No answer.
The doorbell rings but no-one can hear above all this noise.

Not but smiles and scraped knees when we first met
"you've been in the wars" my mum would say.
The war was the best part.
Late. But time does not matter, time is on your wrist is all.
Hope. Chance. Fresh faces.
Another child sprung from your passion, another knee scraped smile.
The race begins but I was always taller, always faster.
Every half a moon we would meet that child and I.
The white box is flying with the butterflies and pink wings now.

That's when the screaming started. It was only a whisper then.
Two worlds colliding in one body, the mind won't cope. It can't cope.
Can one echo pass through two circles at once?
Hope becomes fear, chance is unwanted and fresh faces turn sour
Now that the third man is new.

My scraped knees and smile are aging.
The war is ending. The war was the worst part.
My legs are stronger and hiding beneath the flowing material
my mouth is slower to turn, it is wiser, more hesitant.
There are flashing lights and a man who wants to be flying.
I won't let him soar with me, nor with the other knee scraped smile who's mouth is also changing. The sky is still ours.

The white box was emptied that night
Split in three, or four.
I promise I will be there. Is it the third man who speaks?
I wait.
No answer.
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That’s sad. I can’t imagine your predicament. I have schizophrenia, and the burden of a busy mind is something I don’t wish upon anyone. Pray. Hope. Fight to love without expecting any in...

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80. Inside An Addiction
- By Vera
- Published by Family Friend Poems June 2011
I just kind of wrote this starting off on my Trichotillomania and how it's more than just pulling out hair then I just kind of ran with that into idk. comments and rating would be nice though!
I wanna hear what it make YOU feel!

Trichotillomania

What I feel they may never understand,
it's not like its difficult or hard to comprehend.

But it's what lies behind my every pull,...

What I feel they may never understand,
it's not like its difficult or hard to comprehend.

But it's what lies behind my every pull,
I've done it so much sometimes I don't even know.

Where'd it all go wrong,
God curse that day.
Little did I know it would take my everything away.

My love, my joy, my truth, my hope,
the day I began you, I blindly signed that oath.
The oath that strangles and tears me apart,
ripping piece by piece, till there's nothing but my heart.

The heart that feels every single thing, no mouth to use,
nothing but sting.

When people look at me, what do they see?
a girl? a friend? a masterpiece?

Knitted together with letdowns and lies,
hiding inside feelings continue to rise.

But my! that masterpiece, look but do not touch!
You can care about the outside,
but isn't that enough?

Well no one likes and undercover mess,
so I just stay right here...
and try to live my 'best'.
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Oh wow this really explains me. Thank you so much for this wonderful poem. It has helped me a lot.

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61 - 80 of 81 Poems

Mental Illness Poems - Page 4

61. Colors Fall

62. For A While

Wrote this for all the days lying on my floor with my eyes closed, embracing the nothingness and it's silence, wishing I could fall asleep and never wake up.

63. The Pit

I have struggled with depression, as well as many other disorders, from a very young age. This poem depicts one of my frequent bouts of depression. The conclusion is not necessarily a happy ending. The relief experienced is but a brief oasis in a vast desert of a messed up brain.

64. My Ritual

65. Depression

Depression, I Feel Like I Can't Take It Anymore.

66. Space

This is just me attempting to describe what my depression is like to other people, it's very hard to do, but I tried! Also, even though God is mentioned in this poem, I'm not religious...

67. Voices

68. Dearest Routine

It started as a way to release my emotions, a few nights I started telling myself that I needed to do it more often, that I needed to do it every night, as the punishment I deserved, for being imperfect, for never being good enough, for being myself

69. Insane?

So, I had to write a poem for school. I couldn't think of anything to write, so I waited and waited. Then, one day, I was thinking about schizophrenia and how sad of an illness it is. So, I wrote a poem about it. I think it rambles a little, but I would love some feedback.

70. Lost

Usually when I write, it all just comes to me. I went through a time when I was not myself and was really sad, so I began to think too much. Then I just decided to write it all down. Not all of it is necessarily true, I just write because I love to.

71. Feeling

72. Daddy, I Dream About What Could Have Been

A wishful letter of what could have been

73. Living A Suicide

I was thinking about life, it's all fake, plastic, pretending, it's just facts.

74. Am I Alone

A heartbreaking portrayal of mental Illness

75. Ice And Salt

I've dealt with self harm all my life Cutting, anorexia, bulimia, burning myself They're my release And it's just too beautiful and too sad at the same time That poetry just comes easily

76. My Reflection

77. I Need You

This poem I wrote feels close to my heart. It's not professional, but is truely felt. I have family with mental and physical health problems And in my job it's what I care for.

78. Screams Drag Me Under

Most people don't understand the extremity of depression. This doesn't even begin to describe what I go through every day. But, it's at least a glimpse into my mind.

79. The Third Man Is New

This poem is about my relationship with my father, having discovered that he had schizophrenia and the abandonment after this realization.

80. Inside An Addiction

I just kind of wrote this starting off on my Trichotillomania and how it's more than just pulling out hair then I just kind of ran with that into idk. comments and rating would be nice though! I wanna hear what it make YOU feel!

I've dealt with self harm all my life
Cutting, anorexia, bulimia, burning myself
They're my release
And it's just too beautiful and too sad at the same time
That poetry just comes easily

I just kind of wrote this starting off on my Trichotillomania and how it's more than just pulling out hair then I just kind of ran with that into idk. comments and rating would be nice though!
I wanna hear what it make YOU feel!