' 'deep' 'mental health’; 'being different'

Learn more about other poetry terms

Trying to avoid this calamity Can’t seem to outrun this insanity Barefoot walking through a city of glass
I was so open, Legs open,  Heart open, But mind closed to the idea of Your deception. Of How you
I feel like I’m in a dystopia Called America. Known as the  Land of the free, Land of proposed  Dreams.
Intimacy is foreign to me It’s the company that I long for  It’s the friend who knows  My needs  And no I don’t mean
While everyone fell asleep I stayed awake Writing until my hand ached Letting it all out The paper can’t judge 
I look in the mirror and see the little girl that was so excited about growing up and I wonder what she would think of me now with tears in my eyes and cuts on my thighs. 
Wake me up when it stops When she says " it happened because of a reason" When i'd be able to say " I forgive you" When I can look at her and say " Mom you good" When I won't be ashamed to say" I am good now Mom".
It isn't enough I thought as I threaded through the darkness In my own mind all of the pain and suffering wasn't my fault
The instant the world halts at the sharp sting of truth A truth, hidden in the dark crevices of doubt and fear Nursed by trepidation and a series of unfortunate circumstances
Subscribe to '  'deep' 'mental health’; 'being different'