I think in circles ‘round and ‘round, creating frustration in place of happiness.

If my mind were tangible you couldn’t touch it.

You would never be able to find where one thought ends and where the next begins.

Suppose, neither will I.

I try to make sense of it.

Life, love, hope, trust.

Fear, anger, jealousy, lust.

Emotions so entangled it’s impossible to decipher truth from fantasy.



The ways I wish my life could be different.

Longing every day only to be accepted, to be seen for anything other than my worst mistakes.

Yearning for the day I don’t have to watch my tongue or hide my face.

Dreams of a day where the entire world could get along without judgement or hate.

Dreams of living in harmony and peace, being completely serene.

Yet pay attention to the indispensable words, this ideal life is only a dream.

If you were on the other end of pain, you would know what I mean.


Do you know what it's like to feel ashamed?

Can you see my long face when they’re calling me names?

You wouldn’t recognize self hatred if it was staring at you with its dead eyes black as coal.

The most understanding person can not know.

The most caring of hearts can not grasp the idea.

The most sympathetic mind can not be empathetic at the same time.

There is truth in this that I find,

Only I.

I, who has felt the blade of a knife, can empathize.


Blood drips, falls, cries, crawls.

Seeping through every side of me, permeating my soul.  

Everything is red.

Yet I refuse to believe that all hope is dead.

A whirlwind of emotions consume every inch of the mind and heart.

Not sure if this means relief, or it’s all falling apart.

Still in that moment there is peace.

A flash of reprieve, ever so hasty.

Then back to the nightmares that continue to chase me.  



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