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louella Jan 2022
ok
my head is full of junk and stress and anger
i am aching and my lungs are trying to grip onto any air they can find
beaten and bruised and confused
broken and misused and abused
i am in a worn down infirmary from the 20th century
bleak and mostly dead
young and unread
i am tearing my bed sheets and wishing i could flee
or recycle my carcass in a dumpster
by the penitentiary
  
  i.     am.      ill.      and.   poisoned.   and.  weak

can i just get a little rest or some sleep?
i amShredded  
and this hospital is forbidding
but i am about to go in
overdose from morphine
and become a distant memory
with tear streaks painted like silhouettes all over my detached face
i am frozen in the zone of the capable
drenched and shameful and incapable
can i punch a hole in the wall
or disappear on a private jet
never to be seen again?
in taiwan, bangladesh
china, the southwest
i will forever pray for escapism
and relocation of my barely pumping heart
please, let me retreat from the dock of the discreet
where i will forever become a inaudible nuisance
tortured between chains and bars and reins
anything is better than this pit i have been put in
spit on and inflamed and blamed
dragged and tortured and renamed
struck by the stick
i once hoped of holding in the first place
goodbye, i will decompose into the ground with the mushrooms
and i won’t need to be around anymore to make mediocre jokes
and laugh like the warden is correct in his words
please, i surrender
and i concur
later, i will no longer be a bore to the samurai with swords
i will be trudging through the mountain terrain
praying you will say my name
and i will be excused from the insane asylum because i will finally be deemed
“not insane”
by the nurse wearing slacks
and i will take my unschooled tracks
down the road
where i won’t bleed and toss and turn
i will belong and get along and be reborn
from the ***** of a once valuable opinion
i won’t die and cry and become shy
i will scream and be mean and fly
cause i will fit in somewhere where i knew i would belong all along
far from the president and the residents and my mom
and the fake acquaintances and desperate conveyances and the dark
reaching a pitch where i am silent but as noisy as an alarm
showing off all my parts
without being too nervous to crack a smile
or too anxious and in denial
even though tomorrow may be torture to the soul of the soldier
she will make it out alive
just bruised not misused and abused
just bruised
Who’s nervous for tomorrow?
Me!

In all seriousness, this is probably the best thing I’ve ever written

1/21/22
Nat Dec 2021
Stifled existence
Limpness in my veins
In all things reticence
At least I'm free of any stains

Silent build-up in my throat
Semi-solid chunks of liquid fear
Worry what sickness might denote
Perhaps it's best I disappear

Better hope ***** is symbolic
Because now I have to go
And so, of me, my stomach's *******
Is all you'll ever know
Anxiety - coming soon to a dank river valley near you!
Bowedbranches Dec 2021
The craving had been
More of a need
As of late

Energy taken
Energy generated
Or one could also say
One cultivated
One gave away
Every little thought
That you think

Isolated
from the rest of you
With steel walls
And the tallest gates
Barricade myself
In a little
Me sized
Cave

Wouldn't be surprised
If I never
            Even
                Came Out!
Dramatics
daphne Sep 2021
how do you do that?

walk into a crowded room
shoulders strained back
with a grin so wide
your head held high

i can't help but fiddle
finding a place to hide
frankly, i'd rather die
than ever meet their eye

how do you speak
with such determination?
are you so sure of yourself?
what if they find you unpleasant?

when they approach me
my lungs can't help but falter
my sentences come out stuttered
something wrong i'll surely utter

and when we finally leave
both you and i sit back with a sigh
yours filling you with melancholy
mine, relief, because i just survived

you must've enjoyed the party
there's a loose ***** in your mind
but now i can finally unwind
so i'll be absolutely fine
Faye Sep 2021
144
I don’t want to cut myself open on a stage,
Make my blood curdle on command.
Applaud me, will you?
This idea of sisterhood, this union
At the end of the play
One lives, one dies, and one has the glory
of letting the curtain fall down
Down on the story
Performed to move people.

I’m not a performer,
Not a thespian, actress or Janus,
I have the one face and that’s all I’ve got,
Like it or not.
My clothes are not a costume,
There’s no cue for me
That tells when to go on.
I speak now, with lines rehearsed
To keep playing the fool
The one no-one listens to.

Do you like me?
Do you like me?
Do you like me?
Please applaud.

I am not an act, waiting for an audience.
I do not respond to applause,
There’s no curtain call,
No stage light in my place
That tells me where to fall.

I can’t keep playing
Can’t keep pretending
I’m the one who decides to walk out
On all of this, now.
It’s the final call, that one last bow
And thus ends the show,
See you next week, with all your friends in tow.

A standing ovation,
A brief revelation
I don’t want this, quick,
Act like it’s all part of it,
Stumbling’s funny, err on the side of performance,
Don’t reveal the truth, don’t bleed on the stage floor,
It’s all fake. All pretend, I’m no actor,
but I perform every minute of the day.
I’m not sure my heart’s real.
PenNameBree-Z Sep 2021
You know, I never actually got away?
I left those 4 walls long ago
But the friends I made while I was alone..?
Still keep me company inside my head

They remind me every day
That Im not capable of  making good choices.
That it's safer to be alone, behind walls.
That crying is not just weak, but dangerous.

Because when people come inside,
They will hate you.
They will hurt you.
And worst of all,
They will never. Even try. To understand you.

You probably aren't worth the time.
Or even the space you inhabit.
You are possibly a vile and useless creature
Born to be wrong, and always sorry.

So don't be late
Don't defend yourself.
Don't cry - and if you do:
Don't ever let them hear you.
Don't say one ******* word,
Of one ******* thought,
Out loud. Ever.

Those are the rules.
And if you ever find yourself struggling
To follow those rules:
Stop breathing until it gets easier.

Its been years now, but...
I never actually left that room....
Those 4 walls came with me,
And I carry them inside every day.

On good days they keep me safe.
And on bad days they close in so tightly,
That it gets dark, and hard to breathe.
But on any given day?
I just feel... So **** heavy...

©pennamebreez
I wasn't allowed out of my room often as a child. Most of the time leaving my room was scary. Sometimes being in my room was scary.
Nat Jul 2021
Me
I ask you please to fuse my flesh
Let me be some other thing
Let my voice fade on the wind, I'll
Forget what it means to sing

Structures crack and atoms melt
I beg you to relinquish me
Stress will drag me to the ground
This cruel responsibility

Don't dare to cry, I cannot scream
Please let my words be hollow
I'll lock away my simplest dreams
For fear someone may follow

Burn up all the evidence
Please dissipate now on the breeze
Hide this body out of sight
Sink every thought beneath the seas
Leave nothing but a silent eye
Split skin on red knuckles, the sanitiser has left its mark.
A Common-place application, a routine, like brushing ones teeth.
Scars bare the hallmarks of a damaged soul, searching for a safe solitude.
How did I get to this point?
The point of: avoiding others, hiding away, irritable behaviour. An
Introvert? Perhaps.
A word now at least I understand, as I drift into a lonely world or some single-player fantasy.
Mask on, shield down, a warrior heads into battle; to fight an invisible war. Unsure of the outcome, unsure of himself.
Not sure of anything, anymore.
A poem inspired by covid-19 events
Copyright ©️ Joshua Reece Wylie 2021
Anna Jun 2021
I am trapped in my body, watching the figure that patrols it around doing what she wants and saying what she will.
My mind feels muddled as the words 'I do not care' pierces them.
Is this who i am?
I pull at the the bars that trap my mind around others,
my anxiety skyrocketing.
But the person in the cockpit simply replies to my worries and woes, "oh well, I'll worry about that sometime soon"
forced to take a back seat in my own mind
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