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Arise

At the end of the day

Is the emptiness called tomorrow

And everything seems to change

But it is different kinds of same

And I will not hide anymore

While everything is ablaze

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Pain

A hollowed chest
Pangs of emptiness
Gun’s been aimed
At heart untamed
Through and through
Feelings of blue
Cuts and scars
Hope travels afar

Pain is a four-lettered word
Pain makes you a caged bird
Pain makes you cry liters worth
Pain there is nothing worse

Cross my heart
Hope to live
A war inside
Battle each night
Conquer a demon
Despite the screaming
Life force dying
Energy is fading

Pain is a four-lettered word
Pain makes you a caged bird
Pain makes you cry liters worth
Pain there is nothing worse

[Image attribution – People vector created by stories – www.freepik.com ]

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My Fault

I am the most selfish person you’ll meet

I care only about myself, my problems, and my feelings

I am blind to what you’re going through you see

I know I don’t deserve to live, exist or breathe

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Killer Amour

What is this power you hold over me?
This power that I find hard to resist
Is there a way to cease and desist?
You say you love me; no insist

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Damn This

Oh, damn this day

Just damn this life

I’m sick of giving

And living in pain

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Depiction Of A Person With Mental Illness

I want you to imagine this – one day of your life. In a dark, never-ending dungeon. Let us start at midnight. I let you sleep for half an hour in the most uncomfortable bed with very little ventilation. When the half-hour is up, I punch you in the stomach, hard. For the next half hour, I let you go around doing whatever you want, but you have to carry with you a backpack filled with stones and gravel, while speakers around you scream all kinds of discouragements – “You’re not good enough” “Nobody gives a damn about you.” “You look ridiculous.” “They are laughing at you.” “You are fake.”. Sometimes all you hear is a loud, mind-crushing high-frequency sound. You scream back at those voices, but it doesn’t make any difference. You can try to ignore them, but you can still hear them, loud and clear. You want to say, “I don’t care. It’s okay.”. You want to let it go. But eventually, you get exhausted. Ultimately, it gets to you. When the half-hour is up, I punch you hard again and then let you sleep in the same uncomfortable bed with the least amount of ventilation. This goes on and on, till the end of the day.

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Are You Okay?

I find a spot. I sit down and cross my legs. Leaning back, I hug myself. I close my eyes. Ignoring the world. Ignoring the pain. Ignoring everything. I breathe. And I wait.

Nothing. Nobody. No one asks me the single question that would show me that someone cares. Three simple words. With genuine concern. “Are you okay?”

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My Beautiful Death

Death, she opens her arms wide for me

Beckoning me to rest in her arms and sleep

Instilling me with a sense of calm and peace

She is not the scary woman who can’t be appeased

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The Dark Companion

I seek solitude in the dark. I shut down the laptop, turn off the music, switch off the lights, sit on my bed, and seek comfort in the dark. Darkness has become a part of me. The nothingness reaches out to me, engulfing me into its darkest depths.

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I’m A Wreckage

I live a life of no attachments, not an ounce of lasting love

I push him and I push her, never letting them close enough

For are they even real, never in ways that carry weight

I speak not of their being or care, I’m not an imbecile

But the darkness descends, even in the brightest of days

Despite the haze from the pain, I see it crystal clear

This measly soul getting sucker-punched, when does it end

A meaningless existence of tire and agony, I admit defeat