I don't think anyone's been crueler
than I've been to myself.
I've carved scars with whispers,
Told lies I began to believe,
Made myself drown in tears
I didn't deserve to shed.
I'm stuck with someone I don't like-
She lives in my skin,
Tears me apart with words
I wouldn't allow from anyone else.
But I can't walk away from her.
Once, red was love-
Roses, hearts, wrapped promises
In hues of tenderness.
Now, red is the color
Of my own undoing,
Blood tracing paths down my skin,
Through the wounds I let her create.
How do you fight someone
When that someone is you?
How do you heal
When your hands hold the knife?
YOU ARE READING
Trapped in my own head
PoetryShe is an outcast. She finds it easier to express what she feels in the form of writing. Whether it is poems, letters or long texts. These are poems that she writes trying to describe how it feels to live with certain mental health issues, in a worl...
