They think they have a sane daughter,
But they don't hear the storms
that rip through me at night.
At 3 a.m.,
music in my ears,
darkness in my chest,
I sit with a hurt
I can't name out loud.
Escapism plays on loop,
and I drown in it-
a little more each time.
I wish my mind was quieter,
wish my heart didn't feel so much,
wish the ache didn't swallow me whole.
Some nights,
the pain is so loud
I look for anything
that could make it stop-
even for a minute.
I hide it well.
They see "fine."
They see "normal."
They don't see how close
I am to breaking,
Or the red lines under my sleeves.
And I'm so tired...
tired of pretending,
tired of the weight,
tired of being the only one
who hears my silent screams.
YOU ARE READING
Trapped in my own head
PuisiShe 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...
