blogging, depression, life, loneliness, love, passion, poetry, sadness, self, thoughts, Uncategorized

An Ode to My Greatest Challenge

Why can’t I let myself draw?

Do I loathe who I am so much that

When I sit down, either cross-legged or

One leg up on my stool at the desk

I freeze

My heart, my brain, my hand

The muscles are failing and sore because

Apparently I trained… myself, to do this… to myself

From a very young age.

I’m a protector.

If it can’t be perfect, then I don’t make the attempt

And if I don’t attempt, I cannot be mocked

For failing at the thing that I absolutely adore the most

The very thing that used to keep me alive.

I can’t let myself draw

Because then I don’t have to face that face in the mirror

The absolute adoring love hidden, somewhere in my house

That I apparently hid away long ago

In order to

Protect.

The love that I have been running away from

So that I don’t experience the disappointment

Of never feeling wanted

Or desired

And satisfied.

 

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art, life, love, poetry, rhyming, romance, sadness, Uncategorized

Divorcing

There’s a change

A new range between cage

Bars and the smart

Whip of finger snaps

I clap, I cry, I’m flying

On a blade of burnt grass

One change, enrage

But I’m myself again

Too many bars in the cage

Of your unwilling, thrilling

Unhappiness

And my rods and cones

Focus like hocus pocus

I’m clapping, I’m crying, I’ll fly

On my smirking lips

Covered by finger tips

No “shhh…”

Just knowing, I’m instrumental

My sanity is mental

Finally, my heartbeat, feels gentle

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depression, life, loneliness, poetry, sadness, thoughts, Uncategorized

A literal description of depression

I was pretending to be normal

And really wanted to be

Only because of they way they treated me

From the time I was a baby

I was myself when I was alone

I could be sad by myself

Without anyone looking at me

Asking me what’s wrong

A question I’ve never answered accurately

I gave up the things I loved

Loved more than my own life

In order to be strong, happy, normal

For a few years I “was”

But now I wonder if I was simply

Getting really good at lying

Until one day it was too much

It all came rushing back

The weakness, the illness, the self-loathing

Wanting to be someone else

And never, ever feeling free

 

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