poetry

anxiety

anxiety is this:

a fist to the stomach

an ache in the throat

a twisting of the gut

shaking fingers and the

immovable knowledge

that i am

flawed and hated,

the conviction that

you have never loved

anything that is

me

that is

me

that is

me–

you can run

away but

i cannot.

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poetry

sorry.

“how’ve you been?”

i don’t really know.

sorry.

“are you doing okay?”

no.

sorry.

“what’ve you been up to?”

worrying, picking my skin,

wishing i were dead,

skipping meals.

sorry.

“are you good?”

not really;

i’m generally a

pretty shitty

person.

sorry.

sorry that i couldn’t be

fine

and that i’m an inconvenience

and a burden.

i just want to

be alright and

instead i’m shutting down.

don’t ask me how i am

because i can’t lie

right now.

poetry

scars

purple and white and uneven

lines settle on my hips,

like the birds resting on the wire

across the street.

ashamed, hiding for so long

with the shadows in my head–

I had no idea what

to say to them, to justify, to defend,

but they are just birds

and I am just human

and in the end, does it matter?

I am alive, and I have fought monsters

every day of my life and am still

alive to tell the tale.

and these?

these are just reminders of everything

I have lost and everything

I have become

and so I’m going to do what I damn well please

and wear my battle scars

with pride.

poetry

dear mama,

dear mama,

the head fell off my doll

and inside it were misery

and company

and we had a tea party

and now

I am broken

glass.

dear mama,

you looked at me again

and I’ve eaten nothing

today.

are you proud of me

yet?

dear mama,

I don’t know how to tell

you this

but I am broken

and you have not bothered

to sew me together.

dear mama,

my doll is missing her head

and I am missing mine.

dear mama,

it rained again last night

and dripped through the roof

down my cheeks.

dear mama,

are you dancing?

I’ve never been good

at dancing.

dear mama,

I am tired and

there are thoughts

in my head

that are not my own.

dear mama,

I don’t know

who you are

anymore.

dear mama,

the head fell off my doll,

and so I decided

to cut off

my own

so that

we could dance

together.