She 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...
My head starts spinning, I lose my ability to focus. It feels like inside me is an earthquake and my hands cannot stop to shake. My brain gets fogged, and my vision gets blurred. There's a ringing in my ears, a constant buzzing in my head, You're falling again, a little voice said. My hands are sweaty, and I have to make myself steady. I grip onto something, but my hands slip. So instead, I start to fidget. I glance around the room, letting out a sigh of relief, No one's paying attention to me. I bite the inside of my cheek or lips, wishing that no eye falls on me. My hands are made into a fist, my jaw clenched and my shoulders tense. I know there's an emergency, only that, I am still wondering what the emergency actually is because there is not one.
I keep Cyrus locked in a cage, he stays there for the most of it. But sometimes, he comes out lashing, and screaming, breaking the lock of the tiny cage. He knocks me down every time I try to lock him back in. He beats me up with everything I have ever done in my life, while still screaming at me, I am stronger than you! You can't fight me! I will kill you. And I try to fight him with every ounce of energy that I have within me. But he abuses me, makes me feel weak. So I just crawl into my bed, or lay on the floor, curl up in the fetal position and weep. Because at the end of the day, Cyrus is still an integral part of me.
Note: Cyrus is my anxiety. I have talked about naming your emotions in my other poem: 'when he visits'
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
