The cherry tree bloomed
Pink blossoms everywhere
Scent of flowers in the air
I am doomed
It's the season of hope
Temperatures rose
Happiness seemed so close
And I search for a sturdy rope
Big smile on my face
Spending so much time outside
You can't see I cried
My memories a haze
A bird is chirping
I'm in twenty-twenty-five
But suddenly, I'm twelve
It is spring
Half a decade
I still can't watch the trees turn green
Although this time I stay clean
Still, I feel decayed
No energy left inside
Emotions washing over me
I'm drowning in the sea
All I can do is hide
While I'm back in school
It doesn't feel so over
I can't seem to find cover
Myself I can't fool
Spring warps time
The season of flashbacks
Opens up healed cracks
Back to what didn't count as crime
☆
I went through ongoing trauma for years. Spring 2020 was the first time I got a small break from it, so suddenly, my mental health was allowed to decline. I stayed in survival mode but was safe enough to first experience all the PTSD symptoms there are.
Spring 2020 wasn't the time of my worst experiences, but the time I was at my worst. I don't know if I'll ever be able to fully recover from what led up to it.
(Btw, the mixing up of different tenses is totally intentional. I thought it's a fun way to express how it feels when present and past start to blur together in real life.
One small trigger sets me back years, sometimes over a decade, then I'm back in my present me again. Sometimes, time feels like it doesn't move in a straight line at all, and everything becomes a blur. My memories aren't always in chronological order either.)
YOU ARE READING
It does get better.
PoetryPeople say it will get better. But to be fair, most of them never were in your place. They say you will get happy again, but how can they know? I've struggled with trauma, mental illnesses, and self harm for many years. These are (mostly) poems - ab...
