How can I keep telling myself.
I'm ready for this.
Or that I'm ready for anything.
When my life's a mess.
And my heart is holed.
I can not hold anything in my heart,
Fall out the holes like Swiss.
How can I keep telling myself,
My life is whole and filled with light.
When all I see is darkness.
When all I breathe is toxic waste.
I can not see nor taste greatness.
How can I ask of you,
To fill me with your praise,
If I can not praise myself.
Nor love myself fully,
Like the beautiful person that I am.
I can not see nor hear my legacy.
How can I be anything new,
If I refuse to grow and bloom.
When I refuse all the opportunities,
That surround me,
In fear of rejection and distaste.
I can not plant my seed nor my roots,
In hopes flowers would bloom beautiful.
I am twisted.
In a way that,
Excludes me from other women.
From other humans.
My inclusion of myself does not exist.
I can not carry the weight of the world.
And handle my plate.
Excluding me from my faith.
No need to dwell on my past.
Knowing my present form here,
Will not lead to a future.
I can not promise you I will be here.
Or there in my future form.
Nor can I say that,
I won't be the cause of my dismay.
I can not speak nor show you my pain.
You're better off not listening.
Not looking.
Not speaking of me.
I will become a distant memory.
When I'm gone.
Only self medicating-therapy,
Will make me feel strong.
I must feel empty.
I can not say I will be here,
Or there,
In my future form.
So see me now,
In the present time.
Hear me now.
Feel me now.
Deep in my emotions.
Claw me out of my despair.
Show me why I have to be there.
In my future form.
But will you promise me that you'll be there?
To hold my hand every step of the way?
No, that's a promise you cannot speak.
It seems I can only commit,
To my untimely death.
I can only commit to a future,
Where my death may be imminent and red.
I can not see day nor the nights stars.
May we lay my head to rest.
Amen.
YOU ARE READING
Dim.
PoetryTired of trying to be everything. Trying to be perfect. Wrong paths and wrong people and missed opportunities. Am I letting my mental illness take over my life? A look into the mind of a BPD, Anxiety ridden woman. With no identity but her Panic. W...
