ok here it goes:
E X P O S U R E
Each smile becomes meaningless.
As I'm slowly running out of breath.
Each laugh becomes more forced.
Losing energy to take the next step.
Voices running through my mind,
Telling me I'm a hopeless mess.
I start to believe these things myself.
& staying strong is the hardest.
When all I want to do is give up,
Because that's what I'm known for.
It's what they all expect of me,
Just lose & incapable to achieve any more.
Because I'm crazy, or so I'm told.
I'm insane, unstable & irrational.
I'm "psychotic" my mother scolds.
This is all I've ever known.
I've grown up talented.
But belittled by my family.
I have endless possibilities.
But lack motivation to achieve.
Just because I'm wired a different way.
I'm not designed for their mold.
I'm abnormal and unusual.
A weirdo as I am told.
I'm not as precious a dime.
Or flawless as their first born.
I'll never be an angel as the last one.
I'm just a broken mess, completely torn.
I tried to reform myself.
To fit this mold they confine me in.
But I was never crafted to be boxed up.
I'm meant for more but I'm breaking.
These poems are the journals.
The diaries of my soul.
How much of these are true.
You will never know.
But this is my outlet.
My positive therapy.
To empty the bottled up angst.
In a form of clarity.
I don't know what I'd do.
If it weren't for art or poetry.
Or for that tiny spark of hope I hold.
That lights up my heart in it's purgatory.
-Saara
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