Mental illness Poems
Autopilot
by Falling Awake
It seems I don't know quite how to respond,
To the pain present, within and beyond,
So, my subconscious defaults to the lead,
With habitual patterns, I proceed…
Reliant on instincts and emotions,
These primal pathways take me through motions,
Now I’m acting rash, values misaligned,
Hurting loved ones in this stressed frame of mind,
All because I’m unable to pacify,
My cortex, drenched in stimuli.
......
It's just grape juice.
by Erica Scott
I look into their eyes, so pure, full of life,
and wonder where I lost that will to learn.
I look into their eyes as I read from the book I no longer believe in,
and I can’t help but silently cry.
I don’t want them to see, in case it might be true,
that this book of magic words never helped me through,
that the words of this church did the opposite of what Jesus would do.
And as I weep inside, I see their faces light up with questions
“How could this be true?”
“Jesus,” I say. Everything Jesus.
......
butter orange paste
by Ella Sophia
the substance tasted sour though as if there’s one who had the chance to have a taste of it .
i can feel pretty . at times , i wonder how it would be like to live a life without worrying about how you look when people try to see your entirety behind their own eyes . i imagine a life of one with no such concern about the time they’ll spend just to blend with other bodies — moving around town . i manage to understand what fits me ; the angle that i must calculate for every picture taken by soul without comparable life , the things that i can waste my time on by doing just to feel normal like the rest .
how can i own up to every spoiled matter that consumed me when i was still living the life i used to own ? must i continue to wonder how comparing everything leads to ruining what image actually exists ? or just to pick up the threads and be whatever i was molded in to be ?
Drugs
by Helen Brownell
Drugs
Have made you old and me older
Drugs and mental illness
Drugs and mental illness interspersed with accusation, rationalization, retaliation
Arrests, hearings, warrants
Missed opportunities and stagnation
Suicide attempts and hospitalization
I could go on
But it started with drugs
......
The Room
by Sarah A
Haunted by the ghost
of the girl who once lived there,
The Room was a graveyard
of her bottomless despair.
Funnily enough,
The Room once kept her alive.
She couldn’t let them see her secrets;
she must survive.
......
white sparkling wine
by Ella Sophia
poor girl keeps getting haunted
deep in mind , she’ll done be screaming
all words rushed down throat
throughout left and above , nothing made sense
jostled yet stayed
pinned up against all crosses ;
she’ll be living solely in delusion
fantasy at twenties , be fearless they say ,
here in square-tinted blue room
one knees bent crying it all-out confines of
......
cigarettes and blueberries ; palace and princesses
by Ella Sophia
i want to smell like berries
not the cigarettes that i inhale
nor the rotting flesh of my skin
i want to look whimsical
like the pretty disney princesses
all locked up inside a dreamy palace
i want to be charmed upon
not lusted
......
butter orange paste
by Ella Sophia
the substance tasted sour though as if there’s one who had the chance to have a taste of it .
i can feel pretty . at times , i wonder how it would be like to live a life without worrying about how you look when people try to see your entirety behind their own eyes . i imagine a life of one with no such concern about the time they’ll spend just to blend with other bodies — moving around town . i manage to understand what fits me ; the angle that i must calculate for every picture taken by soul without comparable life , the things that i can waste my time on by doing just to feel normal like the rest .
how can i own up to every spoiled matter that consumed me when i was still living the life i used to own ? must i continue to wonder how comparing everything leads to ruining what image actually exists ? or just to pick up the threads and be whatever i was molded in to be ?
Autopilot
by Falling Awake
It seems I don't know quite how to respond,
To the pain present, within and beyond,
So, my subconscious defaults to the lead,
With habitual patterns, I proceed…
Reliant on instincts and emotions,
These primal pathways take me through motions,
Now I’m acting rash, values misaligned,
Hurting loved ones in this stressed frame of mind,
All because I’m unable to pacify,
My cortex, drenched in stimuli.
......
Oranges
by Megan Claridge
His teacher thinks he should write poems
but he missed the last bus and
don’t know what to say
And he spoke to her for the first time in a year
but she didn’t ask him any questions
so he peeled his orange skin
And the pictures kept falling down
so he kept putting them back up
but they ripped a little more each time
And he started going to sleep without them
......
