I run circles around my own mind.
Keeping thoughts buried. Swallowing heavy silence.
Lock it up tight and never let anyone know.
Heavy topics that I let slide,
they linger on my skin,
I try to scrub the shame away.
Silence.
Screams that get lodged in my throat.
Finding the courage to speak in the bottom of a bottle.
Drunk fights and sober apologies.
I'm sorry that I finally let my mind speak.
Honest thoughts that I keep locked up tight.
I'm sorry that I'm only honest with a high enough percentage in my veins.
That the powder keeps me numb and the crystals keep me moving.
You tell me that I'm fun.
I keep my answer in my throat.
Take a sip to wash it down.
I want to tell you that the path I'm on is not a fun one.
It's one that I know the end of.
One that I've seen before.
I wonder if you'll still think of me as fun at the end of it.
YOU ARE READING
The diary of Seth Alexander
PoetryI write to cope with life, so maybe this might help someone else cope too, idk. Trigger warning for suicidal ideation, S/A, and Abuse. There's not many mentions of them directly as this is more about my emotions and moments of reflection, all neatl...
