When dusk sets in,
when everything gets darker,
when everything gets still,
the intrusive thoughts start to fill.
Each slit, a way to escape, a way to release,
a way for the pain to ease.
But beneath the scars, the wounds remain,
a clue about the unsaid pain.
The blade, a friend or not,
and the knowledge of drugs, a blessing or curse,
I cannot decide.
For they are something I seek in the moments I need to hide.
But amidst the darkness, I see a glimmer of light,
telling me, "You'll be alright."
I only need to silence the noise,
for healing starts with a choice.
YOU ARE READING
Trapped in my own head
PoetryShe is an outcast. She finds it easier to express what she feels in the form of writing. Whether it is poems, letters or long texts. These are poems that she writes trying to describe how it feels to live with certain mental health issues, in a worl...
