Afflicted by this mental disorder.
Dellusions that I can regress back to my sanity.
The Demons, they say, are just a hallucination,
A psychotic belief caused by Schizophrenia.
But even with medication I am still disturbed.
Emotionally tormented day after day.
Depression has turned my world to black.
Reality has slipped far from my grasp.
My psychosis has left me ambivalent.
Should I commit myself into a mental institution,
Or continue to dissemble around society?
&
Giving Up
I've had this feeling too many times before.
Why I am the one feeling it I just don't know.
I can control the urge, I am still here
But sometimes I wonder why I try.
I'll get through it today but it'll be back again.
Maybe tomorrow or maybe the day after.
Or possibly even both and everyday here after.
Sometimes it's worse than others.
Sometimes I just scream out with tears in my eyes.
Sometimes I close my eyes and wish it to go away.
It never does. It's always there.
It's in my head
It's in my heart
It's a part of me that I don't know if I can live with anymore.
She was never happy,
Always sad.
She cried to me for help one day and
told me how she was feeling.
She showed me the scars
I couldn't believe what she was doing.
On her legs, thighs, and arms were deep razor cuts.
She said she only did it when she was in a rut.
She asked me to not to tell,
I said I wouldn't.
But to keep such a secret!
I just couldn't.
I didn't tell then I decided to wait,
but when I did tell it was way too late.
They said when they found her she held a note in her fist.
The pain was too much
She slit her wrists.
And the world around me will never know
That I was the one who put them there.
Though in my eyes they will never fade away,
Instead be a constant reminder of my pain.
No one will ever know how much I cried that night,
And how I had wished that my blood would've fallen like those tears.
They'll never comprehend the torture I was putting myself through.
So afraid of what was wrong and what was right,
Hesitating at every decision I had to make,
Except for the one that could've ended my life.
I was so tired of fighting with myself.
And pretending everything was all right to everyone else.
Smiling with them as tears burned my eyes,
Laughing with them while it killed me inside.
Some will remember and maybe forget,
Most will never even know.
No one will ever understand.
But I will take this with me till the day I die.
The scars on the outside will heal,
But the ones on the inside won't.
I didn't dream as a little girl to be doing this,
2 a.m. in the morning,
By candle light sitting on the floor,
Confessing all my dark desires.
Of how sometimes
I wish I was terminally ill.
So I can suffer now and await the end.
It's going to happen sooner or later.
Why not now?
Why doesn't my heart just stop beating?
Why can't I close my eyes
And lay down tonight
And not wake up?
