I do this thing.
I get close to a person
I let them in past the iron wall around my heart
And the second that they get comfortable
I get scared.
I’m so used to being hurt and left behind that when I finally find something good
I shut down
And I push away.
I become a fly in a jar, hitting the glass that i put myself in over and over again
Everytime we talk I over analyze.
I watch every movement,
Count every breath.
I Recored every word with a dirty dusty tape recorder,
Scared to breathe wrong scared to say something wrong
Because what if they don’t actually like me?
What if I’m right?
I’m so wrapped up in my own toxicity that I can’t see a good thing when I got it.
I get home and pour over my tape recorder, not even sure if its the right words or if I’m inventing them.
My throat closes.
My head hurts and I think I’m going to be sick.
I can’t breath I cant breath i cant breathe i cant breathe
I placed a paper bag over my head to hide but the plastic found its way into mymouth
And down my throat
Where it wrapped around my lungs.
Each inhale aches
Each exhale burns.
And I try to tell myself its irrational
Im overthinking and its not trye by myheart is a rebellious teenager that refuses to listen.
And I think its anxiety but I’m not a doctor and I cant diagnose myself so I just try to deal and hope it goes away.
Its not going away.
The door to my wall closed and I’m trapped here.
Im trapped here Im trapped here im trapped here im trapped here im trapped here.
The lid of my jar is tighter than before
I’m hitting the glass, desperate to get out but
How do you escape your own mind?
How do you solve problems you created yourself?
I walk down the hallway at school with my chest caving in but
I have a smile painted on my lips so no one notices.
My panic looks like stress and the pleading in my eyes is nothing but a lack of sleep.
I don’t know what i need.
I don’t need your pity
I dont need your sorrys
I don’t need your worn out sighs and exhausted comforts and your empty promises.
Im already trapped in an empty jar I don’t need yours too.
I don’t think I can fight this battle.
But I don’t think I can give up either.
I can’t throw in the towel thats gripped in my hand tighter than a widow grips her fallen husbands old tee shirt.
So I put it on the counter.
I’m not throwing it away but I’m trying not to pay attention either.
I want to tell it to go away, to come back when I’m ready.
Come back a day I’m prepared to fight when I have my sword and armor,
When my lungs are plastic free
When the lid is unscrewed and I’m ready to fly.
But instead it comes when Im already down, when my heart already is aching
When my stomach twists like a rag that needs wringing,
When I can’t breathe.
Don’t come for me when I’m not ready.
Don’t come again.
hard for me to write and share but it needed to be said. So thats my sad poem. I promise I’m fine! 🙂 Also I have been competing in slams so thats why I haven’t posted in forever but I’ll work on it! Anyway thanks for being so awesome fam. You’re the best. Love ya.