I talk to her but it feels like when you swallow an uncoated pill
And it sticks in your throat, or maybe it scratches on the way down,
Claggy and choking and coarse.
She looks at me but she looks through me, it's been said before but only because it's true.
Sometimes the blood in my brain swells with my thoughts
Beating a pattern into my ears
Breaking through my capillaries like it has something to tell me
And then the stains on my skin look like pimples, like the pubescence of some hysterical girl
Who couldn't control her emotions if she wanted to.
I'm sorry I don't know how to be known
to let someone see me in all my flaws and scars.
I hope you know that it's my only defence
Putting up walls, a shell
Retreating when they get too close
Because if I let them crack my ribcage
Peer inside the cavity
All they will discover is the sweet, sickly rot
Of a decaying child.
YOU ARE READING
Hysteria
Poetrya collection of my poetry for the world to pick apart. warning: some of these poems contain themes of mental illness, self-harm, and attempted suicide. if these are likely to upset you, i would advise against reading.
