I think I'm sick in the head..
and it even hurts to say this,
but the first step to recovery is
always admitting there is something
wrong isn't it?
..I'm either a flower that's blooming
in all its splendor, or withered.
but I am never just the flower
my mood swings they run like
one of those heartbeat machines..
up and down, and up and down
I'm either amazingly happy, or extremely sad..or numb
there's never an in between those three
my good months are summer,
it all feels warm inside-
people enjoy bathing in my light,
until fall, falls.. and I start falling too
and then by winter I'm just ugly..
I can tell the change of seasons
by the way I lose control over my gluttony, I start eating like a newborn
I get an old ravenous hunger and I write and I write and I write until
there isn't any metaphor to explain
that I feel like dying anymore
I go 20 years back, and suddenly
I don't know how to sleep through an entire night without waking..
my body gets thicker, and my
patience gets thin, and I can't get them to switch positions.
I am not the cocky woman they perceive me to be, that is just a clever way to hide that I've been hurting.
I don't play around, I'll do anything to keep me from relapse, I can't afford to have them thinking that I'm a sky full of absent stars. I need to be able to hurt inside without having people think that I've lost my shine.
..and I'm here telling you this in complete honesty, but not even honesty can get me to redeem nowadays. Its now 4:18 am, and I'm debating whether I should bring this poem to a stage or not..
but I want to live transparently,
this world has given me a lot of things to prove, and even more things to lose..and then the torture of knowing that I can step on the wet concrete of history and leave my footprint, but It ends with me in a coffin anyways.
But what I'm truly hoping for is that
somewhere before my final moment,
my heart becomes a place where others can find peace, the word family stops burning my throat, my body stops being hated by me and loved by a lover and my womb becomes worthy of a child or two and instead of months, some years between relapsing, so I can finally..experience stability and know how to keep myself together.
