Anxiety

The Voiceless Heart

It’s a cold-blooded weapon

Implosive thoughts

Self-mutilation of my thoughts

There is no color

When it’s always dark in here

And as my cold glare

Faces my fears

The depressing assailants

That

Seem to seek placement in my psyche

Attack me

And pain spreads through my chest

Like wildfire

And I’m defenseless

Begging for someone to pay the penance

That frees me from a painful purgatory

Worst than any American Horror Story

Freddie Krueger couldn’t be this gory

Mental deconstruction tells its story

And on these stormy banks

I attempt my slumber

My thoughts? Or thunder?

It’s no wonder I keep going under

Pain grimaces on the face of my

Pursuit of happiness

The audacity in clapping is

I’m pouring out impassionate

Poetic prayers precisely preceding

The emotional banishment

That seems to riddle me with a physical pain

Oh, boy, what an ailment!

How can I

Dark as ivory

Possess…

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Shadow of Aris

Silence crept into the night and cold air swept through the sun faded curtains of an open window as Aris lay on her bed with the anticipation of seeing it again. She remembered at times when she was a child she wondered how it followed her. Then she discovered it was when light was hidden from it. At times when light could go no further, that’s when it would descend upon the cold earth.

But now, she was waiting on her grandmother’s death bed. Yes. Her grandmother had died in that bed roughly three years prior. Aris still smelled the musty scent her dead grandmother left on that yellow stained mattress. And she hated her for it. I’m glad she died worthless wench. Aris hated her grandmother, she tried to claim to be Aris’s mother, but Aris would have no part in it. Her mother and father died when she was young, leaving Aris to her grandmother.

The strict, hard-nosed Nazi that needed to be killed. But anyways, back to the waiting game. Waiting for that peculiar ghostly shadow that makes its way into Aris’s room every night. She thought of naming it. Peter pan. Hah! Like peter pans shadow… But little did she know there was more to this “shadow” than what she liked to admit.

Aris was sixteen now, living alone in the two-story barn house her Great-grandfather built many years before. There was a creepiness to the place that Aris had yet to find out, but she was too sick in the head to pay much attention to that. If it’s haunted, then maybe I will be able to talk to more than just myself… more than just the demons in my head aha! Aris was normal she thought. She didn’t find herself any different than the other teenage girls that would cut themselves. They do it for the game of attention. I do it for my friends called demons. They relieve me of my black soul.

Well here it was 11:36pm, and the shadow had yet to appear in the window like she was used to. Where the he-… her words cut short as she realized the shadow was in bed with her. Right next to her. Well, haven’t you just made yourself at home? Truth is, the shadow had become so much a part of her life, and any time without the shadow seemed odd.

She relied on the shadow to lead her, and guide her feet. She no longer controlled the shadow, and no longer the shadow stood behind her afraid of the sun. The shadow was her light, and the shadow was more than just a dark spot on the ground, it controlled her. The shadow was a representation of her life. It slowly progressed over time and slowly grew, slowly became darker, slowly became… her. And now she was here. Sleeping with this monster shadow she liked to call Peter Pan… The shadow that became her friend. Her Saviour. Her home.

Flawless

Looking into the mirror

All she sees is a ghostly figure

All she can wrap around her finger

Is the fact that none other said that to her

That her skin was beautiful

She was never told that she was beautiful in her skin

 

She found flaws in herself that she couldn’t over look

She saw the flawlessness in those opposite her

She felt their kind was far more beautiful

That the gorgeous darkness they possess

That is what she was attracted to

That’s what she wanted
To be flawless

Not what she was

 

But that phrase

“Your skin is so beautiful”

How could she forget it?

How could she ignore it?

How could she not give it any thought?

He wouldn’t lie…

He spoke what he felt was true…

So could it be true?

She constantly asked herself.

Am I beautiful?

Is my skin beautiful?

Why would anyone want this skin?

These thoughts plague her

And she cant help but embrace the security of knowing

She doesn’t believe it herself

so close to believing it.

So close to accepting it

But fails

Because of all the years she heard the opposite.

Damaged

This is one of my good friends writings, please check him out and follow him, you will not be disappointed! This is poem was so good, i related to it so much. amazing job Xav 🙂

Damaged

Underlying

What it is?
Why?
How?
I try.
I been trying so hard!
Why wont it die!?
I can do all these things
But i still end up with the same plight
Depression
Anxiety
Misery
Negativity
Oh my God.
Help me. Please
I know You are my strength
My security
But it never settles in!
There’s something underlying.
Something that keeps me from having a peace
Im crying
Begging for a cure
An antidote
But i dont have a clue where
But this is killing me softly
The devil is using me to fight me
At least thats what i been told
And the logic to that
Well
It makes sense
So what is underlying…
Myself.
My weakness
My addiction that i have
And the guilt i can’t free
God
Save me
From what’s underlying…

Addiction

I was reading some of my older posts. And i read this one and realozed it still applies to me. Sometimes when i write at one time i will come back and be like… What was i thinking? Or im glad im not like that anymore… But this is still exactly how i feel.

Addiction – http://wp.me/p5Zr1y-ef

Six Word Memoirs #8

You can’t forget, until you forgive.

In His Hands

They draw their swords and they chase me into the mountains

The caves in which I dwell

They offer me no shelter

For within dwells monsters and I am a helpless worm

Suffering starvation

And lacerations

My health is on the decline

But dare I not blame God

Because I know He will deliver in due time

And even with being hunted

Chased down

Beaten

Hurt

Bruised

Alone

I have the Lord looking down at me

And walking beside me

I need not fear

Though fear comes at times

I know he will deliver me when I need his hand

The lord shall provide His hand

And again,

No matter what trials may come my way

I know the Lord will deliver

So praise be to Him

For when He will deliver

You may wonder,

Why my optimism never ceases,

It’s because of the joy in my heart that never leaves me

My soul is joyful

My heart is full of the Holy Spirit

I have a peace within

That cannot be comprehended by most

Until one has found the faith in Upmost Highest

They will never fathom the power of the Holy Ghost

And the peace that it bestows

The Lord is my rock to lean on when I get weak

The Lord is my shelter when I need to sleep

And the Lord is my Saviour when I am going through a storm

I will continue to praise Him

No matter what comes my way

And my enemies will continue to fight against me

But they shan’t prevail against me

For it isn’t me they are against

It is God

For in Him I have placed my trust

And I am in His hands.

Scars

The Outpouring of My Heart

Often we forget the things we should meditate on

We focus on the negative and put aside positive thoughts

Life is taken out of us

Depression takes hold of us

The murder of our happiness

Has granted our request for sadness

Pain and misery is our go to

The innocence we once had as a child is no longer new

We don’t appreciate the pure minds we once had

We don’t realize that the ignorance is what we want back

It kept us from thinking about malevolent thoughts

The dreams we had are now forgotten

The magic we once believed in is now uncommon

The curious and mischievous minds we had as a child

Has turned into wicked desires and actions that are wild

But now we endure heartbreak

Growing up and maturing causes so much mental heartache

Falling in love is the epitome of depression

Love is supposed to…

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Six Word Memoirs #7

Creativity is my avenue for happiness.