I miss the skip in my chest
I feel like I'm doing something wrong, but it feels so right
The metal that catches under my skin
The drip, drip, drip, as the blood runs out.
There's a moment where all the bad fades away.
A moment of quiet in the loud.
I wish I could say it doesn't cross my mind.
But the thoughts are still there.
That moment of self-control.
And it gets harder when no one seems to see.
Just a slip-up won't hurt.
They don't get the pain.
Of the hurt that's lurking in my chest.
I want to cut it out.
It's a disease, and it's eating me alive.
But I plaster a smile on my face.
I push through the day to get the chores done.
Just anything done. I have no motivation, and it's killing me.
I put the bottle to my lips to catch the release.
And I fill my lungs with Mary Jane trying to ride the high.
It's hard to find joy in the places I once I traveled.
The endless vacations in my head wrapped around the stories between pages.
But cover to cover isn't enough. Not anymore.
And I'm tearing through the spines looking for the right ending.
Of someone's words telling me how to make it.
A step by step guide to not end it.
I keep waiting for a reason not to tie the noose.
But the page is one line from being empty.
I put on a smile and wear the good girl mask.
But I'm waiting to be scolded for the lies I tell myself.
And I want him to notice the pain behind my eyes.
To see that I miss the self-control.
I miss the blade carving into my flesh.
The way the blood trailed down my wrist.
But I wait until there's nothing left.
When I hit the rock bottom.
But everyday rock bottom becomes closer than ever.
And I just want to say goodbye.
YOU ARE READING
Reflections of a Struggling Soul
PoetryThis powerful collection of poems takes readers on an intimate journey through the depths of a woman's struggle with mental health challenges. Written with raw honesty and vulnerability, these verses give voice to her inner turmoil, aching lonelines...