'2018' 'recovery' 'mental health' 'Abuse'
Learn more about other poetry terms
There is a dark place in each of us,
That many can't escape,
Where permanment slumber is what we are told to crave,
We are stuck in a dark embrace, we think we can never break,
A little girl fighting to get attention
Mom and dad are fighting again and she feels like she has to step in
She steps in and it only makes it worse
Dad shoves mom into the wall calls her a whore and a bitch
I lie in bed all day with my blinds pulled shut,
motionless in the shadows of my own despair
everything feels pointless:
the world
the people in it
my very own existence
I woke up in the morning today,
unable to look around.
The room, when I get up, will sway
and I know it will be another strange day
I just look around as I watch the faces pass by.
Deary days turn to sunny
The yells echoing from the very thin walls of our house. The scream of a frightened child as she watched her father kick what seems like the only thing she had left from her mom. The mom who she hasn’t seen in months.
Depression is not black and white filters and silhouettes shrouded by willow trees like ivory wigs. It is not half embered cigarettes and cans of monster. It is not piles of chalky pills labelled "morgue". It is not flowers in tangles of hair.
I can still see the blue veins looking at me through the skin in your neck from the hatred that wraps all the way down from your hands to my wrists.
Dear little girl,
You would have already been asleep
But you’ll wake up by the old door creek
He will ask to sleep next to you- in darkness
Yet, he’ll get closer to you regardless
Dear little girl,
