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not sane - a poem - April 4th 2016, 03:33 AM

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*
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 04:29 PM. Reason: Adding prefix.