chronic illness · mental health · writings

a poem

please do not assume that i am okay
if i somehow today
managed to stretch a smile across my face,
if you looked closer
you’ll catch a glimpse
my eyes itch from aching
my cheeks, flushed red and flaking
bleeding into a weary crease
in my skin, for such a smile, you see
could be taken as an indicator
of my present state of health
this ‘happiness’ you see, a sure sign of wealth

you’d be forgiven if you took one look, this view
at me, walking the same way as you always knew
if just by sight i met your gaze
that just so happened to be on one of those days
that i wasn’t locked away
beneath the safety warmth of my bed sheets.
no fleeting moments, no people,
no lights, no noise, no stimulating or aching
or senses grinding through the very souls of my skin cells
increasingly burning as a small slice of hell
like fire, heating up my insides
driving the flames of intensity, driving so deeply
these emotions, churning, burning and spilling out of me

it’s frightening to feel this alive.

how the heck am i supposed to feel this much?
how do i deal with this anxiety too hot to the touch?
when expectations are creeping up,
people needing me to give me up
energy taken, reserves shaken,
without replenishment
to hide away weeping, leaving me stripped
left alone in my black hole, to feel every single inch
like hot nails threatening to pierce through my skin
heating up this delicate soul suffocating within.

this world, oh so beautiful and precious
feels just that bit too much
too strong in its wanting, too intense to the touch
as though it needs too much of me
ripping and stripping my sensitive skin
to get to the treasures hidden deeply beneath
like an endless cavern, that never feels relief.
a whirlwind, tornado, storms increasing in speed
feelings and needs that just won’t let me breathe
aching, and craving, desperate needs to be free.

insomnia striking, early hours stealing my thoughts
desperately fighting to hold together my fort
these stones, my walls, my exhausted, weary bones
tired of asking to just be left alone

when will this all just, STOP?


One thought on “a poem

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