I felt frail, paper thin.
Strapped to the bed not feeling like me.
My wrists bleeding
I lay in the water holding my screams
softly crying, feeling like dying.
Monsters pull me down
one monster; depression.
two, three; anorexia, anxiety.
'you're. so. beautiful.' I hear repeatedly.
I look myself in the eyes and cry maybe laugh a little inside.
Only to feel pathetic if I took pride in something I feel the need to hide,
my body.
Trying to remind myself words do not define who I am
who I am is not the words others lay on the table destroying my mind time after time they say it.
But those words have stuck to me like sand on tape creating sand paper that tears into my skin like a blade.
And for a second those thoughts slumber.
but only for a second.
YOU ARE READING
Just Fly
Poetrypoetry for the minds of those who feel their existence isn't enough and for the soul to know they aren't alone and they are truly loved {disclaimer} for those who do not feel comfortable reading about rape, alcohol or drug use, suicide, suicidal th...
