five w's of a mental breakdown



i.

Who was the person who hurt me-
Who broke me and tore me apart,
Who wrote an apology letter in my blood,
And mailed it to my hospital room?
No name was signed, I looked,
But it did look like your handwriting.
You came into my room and
Snatched it out of my shaky hands.
You told me he was good at forgery,
And like a child, I believed you.

ii.

What will I be at the end of this?
What pieces are going to be left of me?
Will I look back at this game of smoke and mirrors,
And see how horrible I truly am?
Will I despise this person, this being,
This rotting and repulsive body I am in?
I let you use me as a Knight, and a damsel,
As both the counselor and the patient,
As both the infant and the caregiver.
What I am is none of those things,
Yet I am still so confused.

iii.

 When will I be old enough, big enough,
Strong enough for it to stop?
The constant hassling, the bothering,
The hindering of my opportunities.
I was stuck inside a cage, decorated with pillows,
And I believed it was a bedroom.
When will I leave the bedroom?
When will I earn the key?
When will the age stop changing?
No matter how old I get, I’m always too young
To go and live the way I deserve,
But old enough to hurt the way you want.

iv.

Where can I go that you won’t find me?
Where in this forsaken planet
Can I step away without hearing your voice?
I see you in the shadows, I feel you with me,
I look over my shoulder constantly.
I hear you call my name across the country,
And I respond every time it happens.
Will you follow me to the ends of the earth?
To the depths of the sea? To judgement?
Where can I find peace from this dread-
I feel the most sick to my stomach
On my healthiest and brightest days.

v.

Why can’t I say no to you?
Why is it such a crime for me to have autonomy,
To have some sense of self dignity?
You choke me in your embrace
And I beg you to stop and let me go,
But sharing blood means no rights,
So I must suffer in the name of a mother’s love.
A door that is shut must be opened,
Regardless of what is on the other side.
Whether it be a nap or a curtain,
Separation is not an option.
A desire to be alone is a crime in and of itself.

About this poem

The best time to write a poem is after you have been crying for half an hour.

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Submitted by ghosti on January 04, 2022

Modified on March 05, 2023

2:33 min read
9

Quick analysis:

Scheme AXXBXCDXAE XAXXCXXFXXX XXCXXBBACXXX AXXAAAXXFXXX EAAXXXXDXGGX
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 2,185
Words 512
Stanzas 5
Stanza Lengths 10, 11, 12, 12, 12

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