ORIGINAL slam poem I made named 'Home':)
Tw:if you are sensitive to certain topics do not read:)
Your nights are becoming darker and darker as the days go on and it feels like you're in a state of constant paranoia and dissociation that life doesn't feel real anymore?
I mean maybe there is something wrong. Maybe I'm psychotic?
Maybe I'm so mentally ill that nobody on this earth would ever love me the way my friends loved me when I actually talked more. But lately I've been hiding away from my darkest fears.
Crying on my bed with tears and tears of droplets going down into the depths of my pillow sheets staining them with water becoming more damp and damp as this despair goes on and on. You have no control over what happens.
You poor poor thing. Sitting there with your head on your knees squeezed in a ball not knowing what to do realizing every single thing every single mistake every pain you have caused to everybody on earth. Thinking of what all those people said. Thinking you're a bad person.
Your thoughts hit you like a firing fuming sword crashing through a locked door with chains and chains stacking up on each other not being able to get through. You poor poor thing.
Going to things that you think will help but they are only a distraction from what you really need to do. You have piles of work. Piles of problems. Piles of thoughts burning you alive. And lastly... Piles of your emotions. Your wrists, your ankles, your legs, your arms, your face not having a expression on it with tears dripping down like rain on a foggy night of a bad but not so horrible day. I mean why can't all days be like this? Why can't we just be happy?
Be happy.. be happy. God why are you different from everybody else? Was it cause you were born in a body you hate or your lost identity that can't find itself back home?
Home. Home is a strong word. You can be in your bedroom but it doesn't feel like home. You're with your friends but it doesn't feel like home. You're at school it doesn't feel like home. You're trying to find your path, your wonder to discover a way home. That's gonna be difficult. Maybe it's your identity?
But finding a identity is like trying to fix a giant puzzle that has missing peices and when you build it up you realize you don't like that puzzle so you do another one and another one and another one but it seems as if you can't find it no matter how hard you try. But what if it's not a puzzle after all?
Maybe it's a person. Maybe it's a thing. Maybe its support. Finding comfort in what makes you happy? Maybe. Just maybe...
