I wake up before my alarm,
but I don't remember sleeping.
I lace my shoes, tie my hair,
brush my teeth-mind elsewhere.
The day moves forward,
and so do I,
but my hands follow muscle memory,
not intention.
I laugh when they laugh,
nod when they speak,
answer when called-
but I am not here.
Somewhere between yesterday and today,
I misplaced myself.
Or maybe,
I've been fading for so long
I didn't notice I was already gone.
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...
