It is my curse,
to relive a reoccurring daytime nightmare,
victimized in an attack,
that I did not ask for.
My body becomes engulfed in black smoke,
my mind is filled with voices.
Vivid pictures rise to the surface,
of forgotten memories that come back from the dead.
I reach to grab the surface that's never there,
choking on the toxic air around me.
The soul of a traumatized being,
with tears being my strongest words.
I'm fine,
those are always the words you believe.
How long will you play this game
of not seeing the darkness around me,
and of not seeing my mental suffering?
Angels will lead them out of the dark,
but not a single angel has touched me,
and the day will soon come
to where I am afraid to look at my reflection
fearing the monster I will soon become.
YOU ARE READING
Cold Nights ||Poems||
PoetrySometimes I just need a way to express how I feel when I can't put it into words, I'm sure we all feel that way whether you're a teen or young adult. Mental health deserves to be heard, you deserve to be heard.
