Moss and Mushrooms

Rambles

A collection of poems to get things off my chest. This collection makes little effort to be beautiful and is just a place of release.
TW: suicide, depression, family issues

Unable to put it into words
You've said it in every possible way it could have been said, you arrange the words in one hundred different ways, and you still find yourself stuck in this.
You're stuck in something you can't explain. You're stuck in something you cannot separate yourself from.
Some part of you believes that if you explain it, if you can hold the words of what this is, then you will be released from its grips.
You wonder how long you will spend looking for the words. You wonder if you will ever find them. Maybe today, maybe next month, maybe in another life.
You cannot wash this off of you. You can scrub your skin until it is raw and red, you are still stuck with yourself.
You ask yourself if you'll ever escape this. You ask yourself if you'll ever be able to say you made it through and really truly mean it.
You feel like an alarm just waiting to go off. You do not know if you have it in you to get better. You don't know if you live to tell the story. Wouldn't that be nice?
You find it hard to imagine yourself in the future. You cannot imagine yourself growing up. You cannot imagine yourself making it out of the hole.
You always have the words for it, always. This is growing within you and you don't know how to tell the story.

Family of origin
They said no more secrets. Did you mean it? Do you see how that's not true because of you?
I don't know if I believe you. I don't know if you mean the words you say. Part of me thinks that you believe it, you believe what you are saying because you want to, but you don't believe it because it's true.
I trusted you. I told you about how awful it was to still feel his touch. You were one of the good ones.
You were safe. You were someone I trusted. Are you worth trusting?
She says it was different, but the story she tells does not seem different.
I wish I had a normal family. I wish I did not have to wonder like I do.
Do you believe what you say? Do I believe what you say? Should I?
You were supposed to be there to weather the storm, but in my life you are the storm. You are what hurts me.

Perpetually unhappy
You are so tired of being painfully and excruciatingly unhappy.
You have tried to be happy, but it seems no matter how many hours you spend trying to grow towards the sun you always find yourself decaying.
You aren't sure if you will ever be happy. You don't know if you'll ever try hard enough to find yourself there.
With you there is always something wrong, you are perpetually dissatisfied.
Nothing feels worth doing. Nothing makes you feel good anymore.
You have your whole life ahead of you and you aren't sure how you are going to make it to the end of october.
You are tired. You can't  keep pretending and molding. You want quiet.
You often find yourself wishing you could put a cease to it all, that you could finally put yourself to rest.
When you were younger and you felt like this you had a small amount of hope because maybe one day you would be happy, maybe one day you will be someone you are proud of, and now you find yourself asking if you'll ever be someone you are proud of.
You are behind before you have even started. You are tired on awakening. You are ready for the end and you've only just begun.

Give up
You're tired of trying, because you do everything you can and you are still not trying hard enough.
You are still behind. You are exhausted on awakening. You want this to be over and you've just started.
You wonder how you ever thought you'd be happy. You wonder how you ever thought you'd make it out of this.
You want to give up, you want to say you've tried hard enough and now you can rot.
You wish you could get drunk and write bad poetry. You wish you could stop putting in an effort because you know it doesn't matter anymore.
Nothing matters. Nothing is of value. Nothing is important. Nothing is sacred.