it is the way I sit quiet while others shout.
it is how I long to be like them,
speaking without care, loud as drum beats.
it is the weight of my tongue in my mouth
and the words that never come out.
it is how my computer screen mocks me as I sit in front of it,
it is the hours that pass like a leaf caught in heavy winds,
slipping further and further from my desperate grasp.
it is the anxiety that finally grips me,
strangling the air from my lungs,
forcing me to work until my skin feels raw.
it is the final draft I submit, excusing the mistakes with
"I had no time" so I don't have to blame the failure on my fragile mind.
It is the numbers I receive that define my worth.
The ones that part the cloudy sky,
casting a soft yellow glow on the whites of my teeth.
or the one that shatters the dam,
piercing the earth, carving lines in the dirt
making way for a flood of tears,
eroding my will like a rock in a torrential river,
being perfect is no mere goal, it is a need.
it is the voice that swirls around inside my head
that whispers in my ear telling me
"perfection is happiness"
but it doesn't feel like happiness.
it feels like a hands pulling at my hair,
ripping me apart, one strand at a time.
it feels like pain. it feels like success.
it feels like perfection.
~~~
I wrote this a year ago, before I was diagnosed with adhd, and I feel like this explains so much. Idk if this makes sense to anyone else, but this is my favourite poem I've ever written.
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Poetry & Short Stories
PuisiI'm bad at poetry... but I love it. So enjoy my poetry and I hope you can find some meaning in it😌 Also short stories are fun :))
