#MightyPoets

What’s it called when
It constantly feels like there’s something squeezing your heart so tight it gets hard to breathe.
Constantly feels like there’s absolutely nothing in your brain, it just wants to leak liquid from your eyes.
What do you call that?

Continuously feels like you’re on the outside of your brain, looking at the mouth automatically speaking for itself;
Constantly feels like little you wants to reach out, give a hug, say a nice thing, be helpful.
But doesn’t.
What do you call that?

Constantly feels like you want to punch something, anything, and scream so loud until your throat feels dry and scratchy.

Constantly feels like your heart is at war with itself, like your brain is sucked up and withered trying to survive.
Heart constantly sinking, down, down, down, til it doesn’t feel.
Brain constantly trying to have a thought, trying to find words, trying to find water so it isn’t sucked dry anymore, so it’s not just watching lips move, barely hearing the words come out of it. So automatic it sounds right.
But what do you call that?

What do you call the constant fog surrounding your brain, the constant darkness surrounding your heart, the numbness in your body while it feels everything; just wanting to feel the stinging pain that comes from a punch, a blade, or screaming cries.
What do you call that?
When the only consistency in your life comes from how much you don’t want to be in it?
When it’s constantly fighting the demons you thought were dead, over and over again.
Back down the rabbit hole. The hole you thought you buried long ago.
The black demon you thought got buried with all those pills.
The red demon that was supposedly tamed, with all those meds.
They’re back.
And I don’t know what to call them anymore.
I don’t know how to feel.
I don’t know how to explain.
Just sinking, down, the dark, deep, black hole.
What do you call that

#Trauma #Depression #Dissociation #Bipolar2 #MentalHealth #MightyPoets #BipolarDisorder #Grief #PTSD

Looking back on what I should have said

And the doors that slammed shut

In the wake of words that always fell short

Am I to blame for not knowing what to say

On ground I’ve never trod before?

Tripping over my tongue

Until time tempers the endless confusion

And reveals the only truth that ever mattered at all

Understanding arrives too late to help

But just in time to mourn.

#Depression #Suicide #PTSD #Trauma #MentalHealth #Disability #MightyPoets

Trigger warning: This poem contains depictions of past abuse and trauma. If you are sensitive to this line of topic, please do not read further then thie message. Your mental health is more important than the poems.

Hope you enjoy.....

.....

It is hard

Being my authentic self

Pressured to keep bad company

Despite affecting my mental health

What can I do?

No matter how

Hard I try

You'll always

Accuse me telling a lie

This is ridiculous

It feels as if

I am in a circus

The goal-post always changes

Without my acknowledgment

It is because I am “defective”

with “poor judgement”?

You insinuate that I cannot do

Anything without proof

But act differently towards others

And not aloof

Double standards reveals

True colours of an individual

Putting on a show

Or a facade

Yet, when I disagree

Your resentment would grow

Like a mustard tree

Taller than most houses as it seems

Deeply rooted onto the ground

Similar to my broken self-esteem

There are days

Where I cannot go on

And pretend anymore

Wearing a mask to please others

But what is this all for?

I desire to be seen

As clear as a crystal ball

Not to be treated poorly

Fate can be truly abysmal

My other siblings

Are treated with respect

One can even speak German

But with me?

I am seen as less

Than a vermin.

Being infantilized

Is one of the worst

Feeling ever

A disability

Does not suggest

you are less clever

Yet, here you are

With hatred and ableism

It is all you have

Might are well

Abuse me years ago

Does that ring a bell?

I have been battered,

Punched, spat and choked

By a loved one

But everyone find this to be a joke

Typical

Why am I not surprised anymore?

It is hard

Finding my voice through expression

As I am sinking in deep depression

When given a chance

To form words

I am ignored

Like a flock of mocking birds

A wise man told

Me this once

Blood is not thicker the

Water he said

Trusting the wrong people

Is what most dread

Sometimes I wish

I was never born

In a world

Where outcast given a

cold-shoulder or scorned

#MentalHealth #AutismSpectrumDisorder #Depression #Loneliness #Anxiety #MightyPoets #Selfcare #Trauma #ChronicFatigue #Neurodiversity #SocialAnxiety #SelfharmRecovery #Grief

TRIGGER WARNING: This poem contains sensitive topics such as suicidal ideations, mental health and anxiety. If you cannot handle such sensitive imagery, please do not read further than this message. I am receiving professional help at the moment and recovering from suicidal ideations. This poem is just me expressing my pain.

Hope you enjoy.....

......

As I lay on my side

Questioning my existence

After life’s crazy ride

Struggling to make sense of things

Why am I lost

In my own dark thoughts?

Am I in the wrong?

My fives primal sense

Once was active, clear and robust

Now is nothing more

than a shallow husk

Each day gets harder

To leave my bed

Pondering “Perhaps

I would be better off dead.”

Am I in the wrong?

The lights are on

But no one is there

As I reach out for help

No person seems to care

Am I in the wrong?

Whilst in social settings

My mask often tightens the grip

In hopes of never being discovered

Yet, when I snapped

It’s harder to be recovered

Although I may not appear it

I am a freak

With a wounded spirit

Who needs deep healing

Am I in the wrong?

#MentalHealth #Anxiety #MightyPoets #Loneliness #Depression #MajorDepressiveDisorder #AutismSpectrumDisorder #Neurodiversity #ChronicFatigueSyndrome #Selfcare #SelfharmRecovery #SocialAnxiety #ablelism

Trigger Warning: This poem contains sensitive topics, dark imagery and graphic depictions of suicidal thoughts. Keep in mind, this is just a poem and not to be taken out of context. Unfortunately for others to hear, I do have a rather dark-toned voice when it comes to writing stories in a poetry format. See this as self-expression and a way to transmute pain into art. As I am already seeking professional help.

If anyone is sensitive to this topic, please do not read further than this message. Your mental health is more important than my art.

......

My arousal

Is it depart from this

God-forsaken planet

Permanently

Not tempted to look back

At the past mistakes

Filled with unfathomable regrets

How can I or anyone close forget?

The relationships

I have obliterated

And ended prematurely

Perhaps it would be

Sapient to fly off

The nearest cliff

To finally end the prolonged

Suffering once

And for all

Aspire to vanish

In the midst

Of a perfect storm

Or arrive at cosy

Setting that is warm

Who am I fooling?

I cannot live on

Like this

Spiralling into a

internal abyss

Inner peace

Shattered

Dreams and hopes

For the future

Battered

Into a million pieces

Before my eyes

As if my whole life

Have been a

Big fat lie

I often flirt with death

Through living in

A heedless manner

Who gives a toss

about a defective planner?

As I strolled

Through an eerie

Swamp

Appeared to be all in black

Absences of any hue

Colour it would lack

Descending into more

Intrusive thoughts

Then stumbled into

an invisible web

All caught up thus far

Accepting the entanglement

Just as peaceful

As a spa

Ironically….

Futile to break free

From my own shackles

Cannot saved through

my own insanity

Perplexed in the

Stygian and chilling swamp

Contemplating on

My life or future

In profound estrangement

And dread

Stream of tears

Began to shred

“Is this what I truly desire?”

I questioned

“Who am I leaving behind?”

If only I can

Rewrite the past or rewind.

#MentalHealth #Depression #AutismSpectrumDisorder #Loneliness #SuicideAttemptSurvivors #SuicidalThoughts #Anxiety #Selfcare #SocialAnxiety #MightyPoets #Neurodiversity #SuicidePrevention #Poetry

Crumpled in the corner

Sagging from the heat

Cradling my head in my hands

Because the earth is screaming

Life nailed to the earth

Beneath winter’s bite

Poe’s pendulum shrunken

in each grain of snow

The cloak of winter

Sloughed from the soil

What was frost is now blood

What was sharp is now melting

Life sleeps in a cradle of possibility

And awakens into horror.

What cruelty compels this stirring

This breaking of peaceful repose?

I cradle my head in my hands

Because the earth is screaming

What was peaceful in stillness

Is bleeding

I can’t live like this anymore.

#Depression #MentalHealth #Trauma #PTSD #Suicide #Disability #MightyPoets