Survival
I write because
if I didn’t
you’d find me dead with
a pen by my side.
I try to break free
from the bones that control me,
but the only cure I have found
is shaping words into poetry.
For a decade
I was lost in my own mind
fighting to find people
who were my kind
of people.
I see myself
in the words of other writers,
bleeding down wrists
and finding paper.
I write this poetry
so I don’t feel like a ghost,
at least now
I am a host
to something greater than myself.
I find myself shaking
under the blankets
of my unspoken words,
I can’t sleep
unless they are free.
You see,
writing is an outlet
for my less than pretty thoughts
that get caught behind
fears and lies
and never feeling alive.
I write
because my body still feels the need to fight
and writing these words
is the only way I will survive.
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.
988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
Comments are closed for this poem.