I am not depressed. I just have these moods once and a while when I feel alone and that mood makes me write poetry. I do not self harm and do not consider suicide. Nobody should worry about this. Just letting everyone know.
~I'm a Unicorn
Monday, October 5, 2015
Broken As I Feel
I wonder how people would treat me
If I acted as broken as I feel
If I went around with a tear stained face
Eyes bright from crying
Biting my lip with anxiety
If I gave into my hurt
And let it control me
Let it cut my wrists so my sadness flowed in blood tears.
I have watched so many poets talk about depression
Or self harm
And I wondered why it's always the poets.
And then I told myself that it would never come to that.
I don't need to cut myself to feel the pain
I cry and my tears are the blood drops pouring from my wrists
And I wonder what would happen if I died.
And I am afraid of death
And darkness
But what about an end?
I am not that desperate.
It can never come to that.
I die every time I count the strangers I sit with at lunch.
How I never have a partner in half my classes because everyone already has their friends
And inside jokes
And memories.
And I can't find anyone that can take the empty place my squad left.
And my teacher told my parents that I am shy.
And I wonder how they think that when I try to laugh with the others
At the back of the crowd
Trying to fit in
And sticking out more than ever.
I wonder if anyone sees how broken I am
And that each tear I cry is me giving into the pain.
I screw up too much.
Miss obligations
Forget things on quizzes
Mess up my part.
I hate High School
And maybe it's just because my friends aren't there with me
But I need to find a way out
Some days I don't want to get out of bed
Or I just want to sing sad songs just to shed my tears.
Or I just want to read the part where my favorite character dies.
And some days I wonder if I am depressed.
I wonder if I need help.
And then I go to school,
And put on my mask,
And smile.
And try to pretend I'm not as broken as I feel.
If I acted as broken as I feel
If I went around with a tear stained face
Eyes bright from crying
Biting my lip with anxiety
If I gave into my hurt
And let it control me
Let it cut my wrists so my sadness flowed in blood tears.
I have watched so many poets talk about depression
Or self harm
And I wondered why it's always the poets.
And then I told myself that it would never come to that.
I don't need to cut myself to feel the pain
I cry and my tears are the blood drops pouring from my wrists
And I wonder what would happen if I died.
And I am afraid of death
And darkness
But what about an end?
I am not that desperate.
It can never come to that.
I die every time I count the strangers I sit with at lunch.
How I never have a partner in half my classes because everyone already has their friends
And inside jokes
And memories.
And I can't find anyone that can take the empty place my squad left.
And my teacher told my parents that I am shy.
And I wonder how they think that when I try to laugh with the others
At the back of the crowd
Trying to fit in
And sticking out more than ever.
I wonder if anyone sees how broken I am
And that each tear I cry is me giving into the pain.
I screw up too much.
Miss obligations
Forget things on quizzes
Mess up my part.
I hate High School
And maybe it's just because my friends aren't there with me
But I need to find a way out
Some days I don't want to get out of bed
Or I just want to sing sad songs just to shed my tears.
Or I just want to read the part where my favorite character dies.
And some days I wonder if I am depressed.
I wonder if I need help.
And then I go to school,
And put on my mask,
And smile.
And try to pretend I'm not as broken as I feel.
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