I have a problem.
Well, it's not much of a
problem,
as it is an issue.
You see,
I keep breaking my
promises,
I keep lying to myself,
forgetting who I am.
I don't know.
Feel like shit,
can't cope,
won't drink,
Can't smoke.
Who the fuck am I
to pretend to be sad?
I mean happy.
I mean mad.
I can't remember.
Swear I’m bad,
good,
mean,
sweet,
smart,
dumb.
I can't remember.
I return home
my feet hurt,
head spins,
bra too tight,
t shirt too loose,
hair in my face,
cars are loud,
the wind whistles,
people are talking.
Nothing feels right.
Nothing feels at all.
I am uncomfortable,
in my world,
in my body,
but I don’t feel anything.
Empty.
I stare at the road.
Something calls forward.
cars race past me
as I step on the edge.
It 's Tuesday.
Good day as any other.
Would it be so bad?
Not being here?
Will this help me hurt?
Laugh?
Cry?
I go to cross.
Unmarked bridge.
My escape.
Everything stops.
I am desperate for the hurt
I used to hate.
For the love in my chest
And the tears in my eyes.
All I have left is the void in my stomach,
and dryness in my throat.
I have nothing.
My eyes glance sideways.
I pause.
My would be killer
passes right in front of me.
I keep breaking my
promises,
I keep lying to myself,
I don't want to die.
I just don't want to live.
So I’ll keep trying to survive
this head of mine.
The one that
walks me to the edge of
insanity,
Of the bridge,
Of the road,
Of the window.
The one responsible
for my hand on a knife,
on a bottle of pills,
on a gun.
Please,
I’m begging,
Save me from myself.
-
Author:
Andromeda (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 8th, 2021 06:05
- Category: Sad
- Views: 26
- Users favorite of this poem: kitty the naughty poet, L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments4
Welcome to the club called humanity and learning to accept that superheroes are fiction. Those questions have burned in us all. We just put them away and get on with our shit-load of life making the best of it we can.
Maybe it's poets and introverts that do this kind of introspection but these are the kind of thoughts that run through so many of us. Your poem takes us into those thoughts....
When life's big questions marks stare us in the face, at our most vulnerable. I love how you so easily highlight the invisible. Great poem!
'Feel like shit,
can't cope,
won't drink,
Can't smoke.
Who the fuck am I
to pretend to be sad?
I mean happy.
I mean mad.
I can't remember.'
(oft, there is but a few lane's
to traverse in our lives
that, which we can't ignore
and those
that build a wall, to our awareness;
if ever, we choose
to walk: with eyes, that question
and heart's that never shirk
we'll belong to that evolutionary heritage
of inquisitive ancestry
that lost, its capacity - to observe and accept
a role:
as part of 'the mindless herd...'
There-in, lies
your mind's: endless nightmares
questing, for whatever meaning
you can glean of life;
and these Poetry of yours, reads
like a hymn
to the chaos, in your life
a hope for fleeting mercy
from the abundance of hurt, in your inherited circumstances
a chance, to sip a breadth
that doesn't ache
once or twice, in a day;
a worded wish, to ease
all the suffering, we
can't find the words: to express
let alone, confront!)
thank you for choosing to share, such sincere words
and for inspiring, my little scribbled reply..
I laud your bravery in these brilliant write!
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