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KB
katia B
Feb 19, 2020 ⭐ View statistics (Premium feature)
This poem is part of the contest:

FEBRUARY CONTEST

(Read More...)

I sit alone

I sit

Tangled thoughts are lost

My soul knotted with my mind

All I can think about is life or death

I sit and stare

"How did I get here?"

"Why am I here?"

My reflection is everything I despise

"At least I can see a stranger instead of me?"

All I can see is everything I wasn't and everything I am in the worst way

My soul is binded with my broken heart

Every word I get hit with stays and every word I hear is permanent

I finally knew were I stood in this family

I finally knew were I stood in myself

This contained mind with poisoned thoughts got stained red paint on my cloths

I lie

To keep myself sane

I sleep to wake from reality

"Why me?"

Every night I repeat scattered in memories

I sit

 

With my thoughts alone weeping bloody tears

About This Poem

Style/Type: Free verse

Review Request Direction: [This option has been removed]

Review Request Intensity: I appreciate moderate constructive criticism

Editing Stage: Editing - draft

About the Author

Region, Country: Alberta, Canada

Favorite Poets: Just_another_lonewolf </3

More from this author

Comments

Gracy

Gracy

5 years 4 months ago

Sad poem, katia. I had a son

Sad poem, katia. I had a son with mental problems, schizophrenia. He had voices telling him he was a bad person and deserved to die. I hope you're just feeling tired and negative. Why me? Why not others? Exactly what my son and I asked ourselves at the beginning. But yes, it was his illness, which appears in about 1% of people. So he learned to accept it and not ask that question over and over.
Your poem is spot on. I'll return for another read. As I said, I hope you're not feeling depressed, in which case there are plenty of institutions or therapists to contact. Even the Good Sammaritans. All the best,Gracy

Hannah Moonlark

Hannah Moonlark

5 years 4 months ago

Hi

I agree. Your poem is spot on.
I really enjoyed reading it.

Eumolpus

Eumolpus

5 years 4 months ago

poetry will be good for you

keep writing. The bleeding heart needs the pen. It is hard to express these feelings. The more you write, the more the poetry will set you free. It is the first step to becoming a poet.

Hannah Moonlark

Hannah Moonlark

5 years 1 month ago

I love this poem and think

I love this poem and think you have a lot of potential.
Also, it seemed like you were pretty sad, so I hope you are better now. It really does get better, believe it or not