I used to have a letter I wrote to myself and when I was feeling low I’d seek it out and give it a read. I couldn’t find it but found some old poetry (not sure it counts as poetry?) stuffs – thought I’d share a few over the next few days. Starting with one from a few years back.
Why do I tear them out, do I think they don’t mean anything?
Like I can’t see anything. So now, can’t I feel anything?
It’s gone from my eyes, so my heart wont feel a thing.
Whats healing without breathing?
Sinking. Lying. I’m not sinking.
When will I stop breathing.
The pain lifted with the last breath.
She meant nothing in life, she’ll mean nothing in death.
Taken in the womb, her life was already snatched.
Each day a torture till I take the last breath.
Whats the point when you feel for no one?
A body so darkened, no day for a sweet one.
Destroying every heart I touch. Draining your life for the want of a love.
How can I let you love me. When I dont fucking love me.
And I’ll never fucking love me. Because he created a monster and there’s only fucking ugly.
Whats a prison cell when I’m the one to live in hell.
No longer scared, but no longer me.
Healed but forever silenced.
Never to break another like I broke myself.
(As you can tell. I was really going through it and there are many of similar tones. I was worried they would be triggering but they’re not. There’s a journey through them to the person I am now and for that, I’m thankful)