orignalpoem

#MightyPoets #Poetry #orignalpoem

Criminal brain

My brain is a criminal
Robbing me of a life without pain
It stops me from doing things
That I’d like to do

It tortures my body
Leaving me wondering
How long this attack will last
I always hope this one is short

My brain is a criminal
Causing me so much pain
Not only physically
But mentally as well

It is the most menacing criminal
Because it cannot be caught
Because I can’t be saved from it
I am forever stuck as my brain’s hostage

Delusions slip through
The fingers of my mind
Like so many grains of salt
Indistinguishable from
The sands of reality.
Those fingers that sift
Thoroughly through
Everything
Come up with only confusion
My heart hurts
For what my mind has lost. #orignalpoem #Poetry #Schizophrenia

Four words can make your life stop.
Not in the way you want.
My life will stop:
With white scratchy sheets and the burning sensation in your nose from way to much bleach,
my life will begin:
My vitals being checked and the words “it will get better”.
The eyes of loved ones empty and confused, “what did we do wrong” they ask themselves.
Pity and confusion is vibrated through the sterile hospital.
Each tear sounds like thunder as it drops from each eye.
You didn’t succeed.
“Why won’t you take me!”
12 years I’ve crawled into praying:
“God, don’t wake me up tomorrow”
Oh new medication, supplements, exercise and a coloring book that’ll fix me right up!
Can you color depression away? This illness is not like the rest.
A little rest and taking it easy with some soup wont cure it.
Not even the tissues with the magical elves.
You can’t explain your symptoms;
that leads to white tile floor and the burning sensation in your nose from way to much bleach.
72 hours you cannot leave.
I have just learned to leave places I don’t want to be.
I have learned I don’t have anyone to please.
Yet, my lack of motivation and the loss of control of my water ducts doesn’t make people at ease.
Yet, here I am one hand unable to communicate with others.
The other hand a list of suitable coping mechanisms.
Just wrap both around my throat and let me go.
I still want to die!
No doctor I don’t have a plan,
Its hard to create a plan when the only thing you want to do is die.
Those 4 words have created a song in the back of my mind that continues to play.
I have no off switch.
I don’t want to sleep because I know ill wakeup.
It takes to much effort to smoke
I don’t even care to look for a lighter,
My boyfriend joins me in the bed he made.  I haven’t showered in 5 days.
No I’m not okay.
I feel like I’m slowly withering away. A chronic disease with physical symptoms that are non-existent.
The only desire is to die.
I wish my demons would come out of my head to play.
I wouldn’t even struggle.
Each day I sleep longer, the chanting gets stronger.
I just want to die.
I still want to die.
Five words vibrating through my shell of a being.
Your eyes look past me confused and full of pity.
“How did we get here?”
My life has stopped, but it will begin:
Medicated in my childhood bed unmade and 3 days without a shower.
Can you color depression away?
#Anxiety #hurting #Bpdisexhausting #BPD #orignalpoem

My emotions are like rain,
Washing away at pain.
But it doesn’t wash it all away,
I wish it could some day...

I can start soft and grow to be loud,
Or I can just stay as a dark cloud.
I can be a drizzle then erupt into a bang,
With destructive winds and infecting a pang.

I can become a devastating storm,
Then stop suddenly changing in form.
I can stop momentarily only to raise back,
Or stop completely had given up on my counterattack.

(This isn’t as good as my other poems, but I thought I might post something today. If you have heavy mood swings, and multiple personalities. You might relate to this alittle.)
#Depression #moodswings #DissociativeIdentityDisorder #BorderlinePersonalityDisorder

Everyday it’s the same,
Nothing I can claim.
Everything it’s all the same,
Why am I so lame?
Everyone still treats me the same.

I’m not made out of stone.
All the words break my bone.
I tried to form stone,
But I don’t like the cold.

Why am I treated like mold?
Always thrown to the cold.
I don’t know.
All I know, is my body isn’t stone.
#Anxiety #Stress #Depression

Cotton so soft yet delicate
Blows in the wind ever so swiftly.

Yet this little cotton is flammable.
It burns in an instant.

We all are fragile cotton that blows in wind.
We all burn out eventually.
Some faster than others.

Treat eachother like it's the last time because you may never know who will go up in flames.

#MightyPoets
#Writing #Poetry #MentalHealth #Support #poems #orignalpoem #meghanyoungpoet