I don't know if this is under the right heading or in the right place. But I thought I would share a poem I wrote with you in the hope it resonates with someone or like makes them feel less alone. I didn't want to trigger anyone so aired on the side of caution and put nsfw. I don't really name my poems just after the date I start writing it.
19/09
The fresh air
Of the night hits hard,
Filling my lungs,
But I still feel empty.
How do I exist
When I can not visualize a plot without pain?
I'm stuck in this dark place,
And it feels like I'm falling.
My mind won't quit,
I'm ready
For when I can find peace.
I'm old enough,
Past my expected life expectancy,
The packet of biscuits next to me
Will last longer,
I'll be long gone.
I fight, I fought,
But I don't fit into life's neat little box.
I'm in a battle with myself,
And the night feels heavy,
Choking me,
With my own thoughts.
The crisp air
Grounding me, realizing I'm still alive.
My lungs fill with air,
Reminding me of the beat of my heart.
The feeling of disappointment hits hard.
What does it mean
When the heart feels so heavy?
I wonder if the fight is worth it,
Or if I'm just holding on
For social expectations.
Will I ever be normal?
Maybe I'd be less of a worry
Six feet under.
I lay on my bed and wish
The night away,
But wish the dawn never comes.
For there is no version of 2025,
With me a main character.
As I have existed,
My story will continue
Past my last breath.
Ideally, I would never have existed,
So no one can be hurt upon my departure.
The fresh air
Of the night hits hard,
Filling my lungs,
But I still feel empty.
For there is no version of 2025,
With me a main character.
My wrongly placed wish:
I hope
When I go,
The world won't notice.
I picture the rope,
I imagine my final step,
I drift off to sleep
With a comforting image.
For there is no version of 2025,
With me a main character.
Will I be alive?
A question everyone hopes will be a yes except for myself.
Who couldn't think of anything worse.
For there is no version of 2025, With me a character. If I am the author
However my current control
Of my storyline is no more
As people apparently have a duty of care.
So though I have capacity
I am no longer the sole author
For I can not choose the direction
As many a restrictions stop my ending
So I am forced to stay alive
While others see it as helping me
I beg to differ
19/09
The fresh air
Of the night hits hard,
Filling my lungs,
But I still feel empty.
How do I exist
When I can not visualize a plot without pain?
I'm stuck in this dark place,
And it feels like I'm falling.
My mind won't quit,
I'm ready
For when I can find peace.
I'm old enough,
Past my expected life expectancy,
The packet of biscuits next to me
Will last longer,
I'll be long gone.
I fight, I fought,
But I don't fit into life's neat little box.
I'm in a battle with myself,
And the night feels heavy,
Choking me,
With my own thoughts.
The crisp air
Grounding me, realizing I'm still alive.
My lungs fill with air,
Reminding me of the beat of my heart.
The feeling of disappointment hits hard.
What does it mean
When the heart feels so heavy?
I wonder if the fight is worth it,
Or if I'm just holding on
For social expectations.
Will I ever be normal?
Maybe I'd be less of a worry
Six feet under.
I lay on my bed and wish
The night away,
But wish the dawn never comes.
For there is no version of 2025,
With me a main character.
As I have existed,
My story will continue
Past my last breath.
Ideally, I would never have existed,
So no one can be hurt upon my departure.
The fresh air
Of the night hits hard,
Filling my lungs,
But I still feel empty.
For there is no version of 2025,
With me a main character.
My wrongly placed wish:
I hope
When I go,
The world won't notice.
I picture the rope,
I imagine my final step,
I drift off to sleep
With a comforting image.
For there is no version of 2025,
With me a main character.
Will I be alive?
A question everyone hopes will be a yes except for myself.
Who couldn't think of anything worse.
For there is no version of 2025, With me a character. If I am the author
However my current control
Of my storyline is no more
As people apparently have a duty of care.
So though I have capacity
I am no longer the sole author
For I can not choose the direction
As many a restrictions stop my ending
So I am forced to stay alive
While others see it as helping me
I beg to differ
