Sometimes

There are some days when sometimes is too often. 

Where the tethers of my mind restrain me from ever making progress. 

Where I feel trapped in my own mental illness. 

My therapist told me to be open about my problems with people, that there's no need to hide it. 

But I found that when I speak out about anxiety and depression, the populace tends to alienate me. 

Oh, there are some days when sometimes is too often and I feel like I am trapped in my own skin. 

On those days, I think of the times I have opened up to people and wound up alone yet again. 

Yesterday I let a boy kiss me. 

He says he would never hurt me on purpose. 

I said I'm just jaded

Because there are some days when sometimes is too often, 

And sometimes I feel like I can never be loved. 

Like my skin is slowly being peeled from my hollow bones

Like the boys who reject me actually matter

Like I shouldn't love myself at all

Like I am no one significant 

 

Oh, there will be the days,

The blessed days 

When you believe in everything all at once

And everything makes sense

And you feel content beneath your epidermis 

And you have no greater desire than to learn 

And think and feel and love and 

Laugh. 

Those blessed days where your dimples prove your strength 

Where you cry from an extended upturned frown and repeated exhaling and glorious notes are sung from your fragile little frame. 

Hold tight to those days

And don't you dare let go 

Never lose your blessed days 

They may take awhile to come back around

But the memory proves that they exist 

 

It's easy to forget the blessed days when you live in the sometimes. 

There are days when sometimes is too often and I can't remember how to be myself. 

I don't remember what my own voice sounds like. 

I let the people around me shape me and dress me and make me the me they want me to be. 

There are some days where my organs fail and I begin to lose myself 

My muscles cannot remember how to smile

So I cry for the loss of a friend who I didn't know all too well

So I cry for the boys that hurt me

So I cry for the end of an era

So I cry for the sometimes where I can't seem to make it out alive 

I cry for the miracle of my life's continuation

For the journey ahead and the path I leave behind. 

I cry for the days when sometimes is too often and wonder what it's like to live in a world of nevers. 

To never hurt. 

 

On the days when sometimes is too often, I lie dormant, a shell of who I am. 

Who I was. 

The world keeps turning through the sometimes and the stars still shine,

But maybe just a little dimmer. 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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