Mental Illness Poems - Page 3

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41. Light As A Feather, Thin As A Rail

We'll travel forever in the pursuit of ideals that we can never achieve. Ideals fed to us in corporate imagery, pulling emotional strings to teach us to subconsciously control our lives, so that we may live distracted, from the bigger picture of achievements.
- By Coral Leffew
- Published by Family Friend Poems April 2011 with permission of the Author.
Eating Disorder Poem

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,

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.
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42. Puppet

To me this poem represents being controlled by something you can't overcome. For example people dealing with mental health issues. You entire life is eaten by this power and despite your efforts you can't make it any easier. I think it's one of the hardest things to experience and saddest things to watch happen to someone else. So the puppet is you and the disease, addiction, person whatever it may be is what's controlling you.
- By Katie Q. McKee
- Published by Family Friend Poems July 2018 with permission of the Author.
Feeling Helpless

The despair that holds her back tugs on her heartstrings
But like a puppet she will obediently play along

She was once optimistic and filled with joy

The despair that holds her back tugs on her heartstrings
But like a puppet she will obediently play along

She was once optimistic and filled with joy
But that way of life soon came to an end
Her mind was used as a distorted decoy
The distraction that consumed her entire world

She wanted something to change
It didn't matter if that were good or bad
She wished she could take a stand
And sometimes imagined that she had

Under the influence of a higher strength
She patiently waited untouched
Looking to anyone for the answers
With the piece of hope that she clutched

Was she weak or a diamond in the ruff?
Passing her by without looking twice
She knew this life would be tough
But she never got to roll the dice

Succumbed to her controller, she falls short
This won't be her last match
The strength she's building inside will be enough
To make that final catch

The thin, torn strings are starting to break
Soon the puppet will be free of the ache
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The puppet was me. I still feel like that sometimes. Last year I had to break the strings. I was in an 8 year relationships. I was his puppet. Whatever he said to do, I had to do it or he...

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43. My Ritual

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.
- By Donna Jozwiak
- Published by Family Friend Poems June 2011 with permission of the Author.
Poem About Dissociative Identity Disorder

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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44. Suicide Note

My poem is about my attempted suicide, which happened in 1996. I took 400 sleeping tablets and remained in a coma for 4 weeks. At the time, I was suffering from mental illness due to post traumatic stress disorder because my memories of being raped at nine years old were beginning to affect my ability to live a normal life. I became stuck in the psychiatric system for many years. My life became unrecognizable.
- By Stephen K. Treharne
- Published by Family Friend Poems April 2021 with permission of the Author.
Attempted Suicide

A tortured mind for twenty years,
now I write my final words of life.
Every line soaked with
sorrowed ink; I cannot hide how

A tortured mind for twenty years,
now I write my final words of life.
Every line soaked with
sorrowed ink; I cannot hide how
I feel about this maddening world.

Monsters raped me at the age of nine,
caged me like an animal, left to die.
My inner self all broken and twisted.
The child in me that day was destroyed.
I became the victim of innocence.

Crushed up pills smoothed into snow,
stirred slowly into sweet black coffee.
The final sip drips down my chin.
Tears splash on words of anger,
leaving stains of memory behind.

I look at the clock for one last time.
Early morning sun shines through the
bedroom window hugging my soul,
drifting towards the quiet light of belonging.
My eyes close, time begins to fade.

I woke up in a meadow full of honeybees.
My fingertips brushed through the morning dew,
as petrichor rose from the ground.
A stream flowed into the lily pond below.
dragonflies rested on the water's edge.

An unexpected touch on my shoulder,
I turned to see my grandfather.
"My dear child," he said, "you cannot stay here,
you have work to do." He kissed me on my head,
and said, "Goodbye, we will meet again one day."

Pure light pulled me back like gravity.
My eyes opened; doctors had saved my life.
Poison pumped from my empty stomach.
Every hole drowning with black charcoal.
The pain unbearable, I wanted to die again.

A voice whispered in my ear,
my lost mother said, "You are a survivor,
live your life, break the chains of your
shackled mind. Let peace enter your soul."
I found home that day, I was free, I was alive.
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45. Unclear

This poem was written during my rock bottom. I was going through a divorce and dealing with the death of my sister. I did not see a light at the end of the tunnel. I lost myself in the midst of the emotional chaos.
- By Catherine Lamberton
- Published by Family Friend Poems May 2020 with permission of the Author.
Feeling Lost And Unsure Of Who You Are

Never knowing,
Always seeking
happiness and approval,
even the words I am speaking.

Never knowing,
Always seeking
happiness and approval,
even the words I am speaking.

Constantly doubting
my choices, my actions.
Succumbing to fixes,
for temporary satisfaction.

Overwhelming anxiety,
illuminated by fear,
controlling my life.
Who I'm becoming is unclear.
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For those who are unfamiliar with mental illness in all its varied forms, this is a good place to start sharing Catherine, as it's no longer a marginal disease. My son introduced me 20 years...

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46. Living With OCD

I lived with depression and OCD for a few years, and during that time I was suicidal. Now I'm free from it. It still lives in me, but it's not in control of me. I thought I'd write a poem for people to understand just a little bit of how OCD works on the mind.
- By GeorgeH4rt
- Published by Family Friend Poems June 2018 with permission of the Author.
O.C.D., those evil eyes that stare at me,
That bully in my head,
Obsession, obsession, obsession,
Is all that can be said.

O.C.D., those evil eyes that stare at me,
That bully in my head,
Obsession, obsession, obsession,
Is all that can be said.

I try to block, and I try to fight.
All hours I wish me dead.
The only peace I find throughout the night
Is when I'm in my bed.

Asleep, no oppression,
But when I wake, all I get is...
Obsession, obsession, obsession.
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47. Voices

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
- By Joanna
- Published by Family Friend Poems July 2012 with permission of the Author.
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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48. Lie Out Loud
- By Mark Bird
- Published by Family Friend Poems March 2022 with permission of the Author.
I cry alone
But dance in crowds
I whisper truth
But lie out loud

I cry alone
But dance in crowds
I whisper truth
But lie out loud

I hide my hope
But make believe
I dare to dream
But daren’t achieve

I lose my smile
But play at bliss
I take my aim
But often miss

I walk so weak
But fake my force
I proudly speak
But hear remorse

I scream inside
But battle brave
I delve down deep
But I’m not saved

I cry alone
But dance in crowds
I whisper truth
But lie out loud

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49. My Repossessed Hope

Top 500 483
- By Evangeline King
- Published by Family Friend Poems January 16, 2023 with permission of the Author.
Gasping for air
I cling, I cling
to whatever's left
to anything

Gasping for air
I cling, I cling
to whatever's left
to anything

Walls closing in
room spins, room spins
Getting so dizzy
this ride needs to end

Fist hammers down
the pain, the pain
Sunshine is gone
There's nothing but rain

Fall to my knees
I cave, I cave
Tide swept me up
now I'm lost in the waves

Too tired to fight
Can't cope, can't cope
No way to regain
my repossessed hope
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50. Panic

I have suffered acute panic attacks. I've been wanting to write a descriptive poem, but have found it very hard to put into words.
- By Evangeline King
- Published by Family Friend Poems January 3, 2023 with permission of the Author.
Poem About What A Panic Attack Feels Like

One thousands beats per second
It hammers ‘gainst my chest
I feel it in my temples
Tonight there’ll be no rest

One thousands beats per second
It hammers ‘gainst my chest
I feel it in my temples
Tonight there’ll be no rest

Tortured is the breathing
Fast and shallow til it’s gone
Air that’s so elusive
In this fight to fill my lungs

A mind out of control
Thoughts will not be still
People think I’m crazy
Illusions can be real

Floating round in vertigo
Raw throat can’t make a sound
Get me off this ride!
The world keeps spinning round

Tiny little tremors
Turn to quakes beneath my skin
Every limb is shaking
It seems there’ll be no end

Then here comes the thoughts
Oh, the thoughts are just a beast!
Tumors, cancer, heart-attack
On lies this mind will feast

It’s when every little ache
And every little pain
Is blown out of proportion
Courtesy of my brain

I crawl into my shell awhile
Until this horror ends
Until the monster lets me go…
In panic’s grip again
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51. The Room Of My Life

Anne Sexton is a famous poet known for writing about challenging topics, often expressing despair in her work. In the poem "Room of Life," she reveals the troubled life she led through vivid imagery, including objects that seem to take on a life of their own. Sexton sees each object in her room as a reflection of her own life, including the books, the typewriter, the phone, and even the windows. She feeds both the world outside and her own inner world, but she struggles to find meaning in her existence.

Famous Poem
- By Anne Sexton
Here,
in the room of my life
the objects keep changing.
Ashtrays to cry into,

Here,
in the room of my life
the objects keep changing.
Ashtrays to cry into,
the suffering brother of the wood walls,
the forty-eight keys of the typewriter
each an eyeball that is never shut,
the books, each a contestant in a beauty contest,
the black chair, a dog coffin made of Naugahyde,
the sockets on the wall
waiting like a cave of bees,
the gold rug
a conversation of heels and toes,
the fireplace
a knife waiting for someone to pick it up,
the sofa, exhausted with the exertion of a whore,
the phone
two flowers taking root in its crotch,
the doors
opening and closing like sea clams,
the lights
poking at me,
lighting up both the soil and the laugh.
The windows,
the starving windows
that drive the trees like nails into my heart.
Each day I feed the world out there
although birds explode
right and left.
I feed the world in here too,
offering the desk puppy biscuits.
However, nothing is just what it seems to be.
My objects dream and wear new costumes,
compelled to, it seems, by all the words in my hands
and the sea that bangs in my throat.
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52. Exhale Anxiety

Take a deep breath and exhale all that anxiety. I wrote the poem I needed to hear. My anxiety is still high. I’m going to write my way out. I hope this helps someone else dealing with it. Sending you peace and calm.
- By Raquel Franco
- Published by Family Friend Poems April 2021 with permission of the Author.
Embracing Calmness: A Poem For Anxiety Relief And Serenity

I send anxiety
a cease and desist letter.
I close her mouth.
Unbind her gnawing disquiet,

I send anxiety
a cease and desist letter.
I close her mouth.
Unbind her gnawing disquiet,
slow my train track heart.
I manifest settle,
a steady river in my veins.
I proclaim calm,
a relentless hymn on my tongue.
I end the riot in my chest
and exhale.
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53. Hello, I Love You, Goodbye

I have always struggled with mental illness. Pretty much everyone struggles with something. I think that everyone has missing pieces and gaps that need to be filled. My mental illness affects my daily life and religious beliefs. If your focus isn't on the person and their well-being, then what are you trying to fix? Everyone has worth because they are a person, not because of anything they say or do, especially not something out of their control that they are born with or into.
- By Taylor Jones
- Published by Family Friend Poems January 1, 2024 with permission of the Author.
Broken People Are Still People

hello, I love you, goodbye.
Sometimes I wonder why I try.

most days seem the same;

hello, I love you, goodbye.
Sometimes I wonder why I try.

most days seem the same;
others still seem to cause some pain.

I tell you I'm happy
but it's hardly the truth;
it's just easier for me to say to you.

I seem fine on the outside,
but inside, it worse -
always wondering about my ride in the hearse.

you tell me I'm fine,
I tell you, look harder.

my worth doesn't come from being someone's daughter.

you see, we all have struggles, no matter our age,
and while others are trying to pick up our pieces -
they drop some, we lose some, everything freezes.

so please, look closely when treading the ground -
there's pieces of people scattered around.

Now, I'm not trying to blame or
cause any trouble,
I'm just stepping outside
my own little bubble...

I'll always be here for you,
out among the rubble.
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41 - 53 of 53

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Mental Illness Poems - Page 3

41. Light As A Feather, Thin As A Rail

We'll travel forever in the pursuit of ideals that we can never achieve. Ideals fed to us in corporate imagery, pulling emotional strings to teach us to subconsciously control our lives, so that we may live distracted, from the bigger picture of achievements.

42. Puppet

43. My Ritual

44. Suicide Note

45. Unclear

This poem was written during my rock bottom. I was going through a divorce and dealing with the death of my sister. I did not see a light at the end of the tunnel. I lost myself in the midst of the emotional chaos.

46. Living With OCD

I lived with depression and OCD for a few years, and during that time I was suicidal. Now I'm free from it. It still lives in me, but it's not in control of me. I thought I'd write a poem for people to understand just a little bit of how OCD works on the mind.

47. Voices

48. Lie Out Loud

49. My Repossessed Hope

50. Panic

I have suffered acute panic attacks. I've been wanting to write a descriptive poem, but have found it very hard to put into words.

51. The Room Of My Life

52. Exhale Anxiety

Take a deep breath and exhale all that anxiety. I wrote the poem I needed to hear. My anxiety is still high. I’m going to write my way out. I hope this helps someone else dealing with it. Sending you peace and calm.

53. Hello, I Love You, Goodbye