- Sea Water -
Her arms tear upwards,
Struggling to keep her afloat;
She is drowning within an ocean
That her mind has created.
Her legs kick wildly,
In a vain attempt to break through to the surface;
Her mouth is full
Of self doubt, and salt water.
Her lungs heave for air,
But she takes in liquid;
Her chest feels liable to burst
From the pressure.
Her head pounds from lack of breath,
And she finally lets herself sink;
Maybe, if she drowns,
The agony inside her will take its leave.
_________________
- Virus -
It’s been spreading through your system for months now,
But you keep denying all requests
You’re getting for anti-viruses.
The malware has been eating you away from the inside,
Corrupting your hard drive,
But it doesn’t matter, you can still use your computer.
Then comes the day it shuts down,
And suddenly the software ‘body.exe’
Stops functioning.
_________________
- Trichotillomania Is -
Dedicated to a friend of mine
Trying to tell Mom,
but hearing her disappointment ring in your head,
and subduing yourself to silence.
Reaching for your hair,
and pulling months worth of work from a body
that feels like it's betraying you.
Instinctively tugging
just when you thought
you might have finally broken the habit.
Crying silently in bed,
with Shame patting your shoulder,
and Regret whispering ‘if onlys’ as solace.
Hiding behind glasses,
refusing contacts
because it will make the gaps more obvious.
Owning bald patches on your eyes,
and legs,
and other places, too.
Telling yourself you won't do it again,
and finding yourself the next day,
with lashes scattered across the bed sheets.
Irritating your follicles,
leaving your eyelids puffy and red,
and hiding in your room until it fades.
Loathing that you can't seem to break yourself
of a habit that destroys you
in more ways than one.
Lacking the courage to tell your best friend,
because you can't bear it alone
but letting them take the weight would crush you even more.
Outwardly showing self confidence,
because, well, you are self confident,
even if your reflection knows you're lying.
Massacring your face,
and praying to get away
with murder.
Aching, throbbing spots
from where you most recently pulled
that beg you to pull again to be rid of them.
Not resisting the plea,
not because you don't want to,
but because you're too caught up in your book to notice what you're doing.
Itching to get someone to support you through this,
but ignoring that itch,
because this is a problem that should be easy to fix alone.
Appearing and pretending to be just fine,
because the last person you cried to for help
dismissed you on the spot.
