The side effects are clear
The sides of me, like a piece of paper, flipping, and flipping, over and over and over
You can't flip a paper that often without denting or tearing it's previously pristine surface
One side is the side who sees the sun, who talks to people, and smiles
One who's eyes are bright and awake
One with color on her skin and hair in order
This is the one people see
The side I take to school and the store
And downstairs to get food and on my morning walks when I can be bothered to take them
The other side is the one that only my eyes have been graced with seeing
The one who sits in a dark room, and writes these poems, and stories of worlds she'd much rather be in than the one she is in
The one with eye bags and pale skin
The one who hasn't brushed her hair at 7pm The one who's still in that hoodie from last Tuesday
These two sides are wildly different people, attached to the same face
Because one can climb out of bed, and get dressed and take a walk while drinking tea
And one can barely move her hand to grab the remote to turn on the background noise as she disappears back to better worlds
And the side effects are a heavy burden to carry
Fatigue, loss of emotion control, generally off from how people expect
But what can you expect when most days I can barely be bothered to type good morning or even grab my phone because I'd have to move
What can you expect from a bird that isn't an early bird, or a night owl, or a midday pigeon, but simply here
Side effects of afflicting sides are quite dramatic
YOU ARE READING
Head, Heart, and Soul
PoetryTW: Contains use of profane language, suicidal thoughts, depictions and/or mentions of violent or otherwise disturbing acts, mentions of mental health issues, and other things that may be triggering to some audiences. Read at your own discretion, an...
