i could sit here 

and explain my loneliness

in some metaphor about flowers-

make it seem as if within it all

there is beauty

there is grace

but there is not.

there is nothing poetic or beautiful

about passing out at 3 a.m. 

with your wrist torn apart

even more than your heart

your hands shaking so much

that you just can't hold on anymore

these are not the thorns

of a delicate white rose

this is my reality 

this is my everyday

this is not a tulip

too scared to bloom

hiding within itself


this is not a sunflower's death

or a morning glory, waiting for the sun to come out

before blooming 

this is a nightmare I'm unable to wake up from 

and to bury it within a metaphor

of something beautiful

is to diminish the reality behind it

no one looks at a daisy and thinks 

'my god

would i love to be dead right now' 

but my god

i feel like i already am

and it is not as lovely 

as you'd like it to be 


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741