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				not sane - a poem - 
            
          
		
		
				
		
				April 4th 2016, 04:33 AM
			
			
			
		 
		
	
                
            	
		
		
This thread has been labeled as triggering by the original poster or by a Moderator. Please take this into consideration before continuing to read.  
 
* 
what if they came home 
and found me dead.  
 
what if leaving me all alone, out of anger and frustration, 
was the last time they remembered seeing me.  
well, seeing me alive, that is. 
 
and it all makes me wonder 
if they can see 
how stupid this all truly is. 
 
or if they only see the devil inside of me. 
 
oh look, the blood is back. 
and i thought i quit for good. 
silly me. 
 
** 
it would teach them a lesson 
for me to die. 
 
maybe just to prove to all the others 
i should finally try. 
 
just to prove to them out there that they’re not alone  
in the prison of religion they are forced to call a home. 
 
*** 
this was my worst one yet. 
 
i died in front of that mirror. 
 
shattered glass surrounding me 
 
whispers asking if i can hear her.  
 
a shadow’s laughter coming up from the drain 
 
telling me i must have gone insane. 
 
asking me if i can hear her voice 
 
crying because bleeding was my only choice.  
 
 
but she doesn’t know that 
and it’s the hardest thing to explain. 
 
how to gently tell someone 
that you’ve just lost your brain. 
 
****  
how do you possibly make someone understand that? 
it’s not about emptiness and feeling numb. 
it’s about absolutely panicking, 
mind going on red alert, 
breathing a bit too fast, 
pressure in your chest, 
nervous ticks going crazy, 
pacing and cringing at random, 
crying out at random, 
holding it in and exploding at random. 
 
i can’t control the attack, 
until i attack it myself. 
 
*****  
and maybe if they knew they’d take it all back, 
to hear me screaming at the broken glass. 
maybe if they saw the walls stained with red, 
they’d care enough to question what’s going on inside my head. 
 
but they can’t know. 
they won’t understand. 
they shouldn’t be able to. 
 
****** 
fifteen red streamers in a white room 
fifteen silver scissors shining for you 
 
fifteen pieces of broken bloody glass 
fifteen voices scream at the past 
 
the breathing is bleeding and so are we 
fifteen confinements of their tyranny 
 
fifteen shadows come out of the drain 
fifteen voices tell us we’re insane 
 
fifteen reflections that do not look alike 
fifteen scars live all alone in the night 
 
*******  
what if they come home 
to find me apologizing. 
 
what if leaving me alone, with screams and self-torture, 
paid off in the end? 
well, paid off for them, at least. 
 
it all makes me wonder 
if i’ll ever truly believe, 
or if their faith is just another mask i must hide under. 
 
for they must never see the devil inside of me. 
 
oh look, the screams are back 
and i thought they were gone for good. 
silly me.
 
		
	
		
		
                
		
		
			 
            
                
            
				i don't know what i'm supposed to do haunted by the ghost of you 
   
			 
		
		
		
		
		
						
          
              
          
				
				
                        Last edited by hocus pocus; April 4th 2016 at 05:29 PM. 
                    
                    
                        Reason: Adding prefix.
                    
				
			 
		
		
	
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