Tag: awareness

Please

You think you could hurt me?
Well you didn’t, I swear 
I didn’t spend nights crying
Prying
Myself to pieces
Like, why didn’t you care?

You think you can break me?
I call this character building
Blocks like Lego 
Who I am
Kick it down
Ive got a new diagram
I rebuild myself better each time

You think you can love me?
Try harder

Please
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Giving up

While making positive change
It still feels like giving up
Giving up parts of me I’ve been known for

Ive lost the drunken confidence
Ive lost the late night calls
Ive lost the spontaneity of writing
and of writing on the walls

I no longer feel easy
I feel everything a chore
Waking up is easier
But just such a bore

Ive given up on holidays
I spent it all on booze
Ive given up on the love
I always seem to lose

I gave up on my innocence
While earning back what i lost
I gave up on my phone
And everything that it cost

dried up paint

Scraping dried up paint from under my fingernails
With a 2H
Writing shit with too many details
Its getting late

Lying down by my book
Kept company by my pencils
And my phone
But its only decoration right now

I love it when an addiction is just decor
I could be using it but I wouldn’t know what for
To pick you up
To start to scroll
But I don’t
To want to drink
A glass of wine
But I wont

To smoke a cigarette, to think about you...
But I do


I love it when I write
Because nothing really means anything
Apart from one word at a time
And everyone thinks it does
That theres a theme or a deeper meaning
That I thought about before I finished it
I didn’t
There isn’t
Its just me talking in my head
If my brain could talk
Its just the shit it woulda said
I find meaning in my writing 
But I don’t write with meaning
I write with a pencil
And dried up paint

trigger

I sometimes loose control of my body

My hands smack into my head repeatedly

My eyes water with no end

My heart rushes and bangs through my chest

This can be caused when I have strong feelings that my brain can’t process.

I wanted to sleep for hours and I couldn’t

I wanted to feel cared for and I didn’t

I wanted to be respected and I wasn’t

So my body shut down, everything went to the beat of my heart

My hands came up, and my knuckles got bruised, and my scalp got cut, and my head wanted to lose.

I woke up the next day and saw the torn up sheet from all my shaking

I woke up and felt my hands aching

I woke up and my heart hadn’t yet stopped

The worst part is, is that normally I trigger this, with dark thoughts or loss of hope

But this time it was people, who I loved or thought I did

And so my world has crashed, and behind the pretty paintings I now see all the ash

So this is the time for me, and new beginnings, and people who I admire and look up to, not people who held knifes behind each others back.

Im not being used or abused or taken for granted

I’ll do some yoga and reflect, and not give any more chances.

Woman

As a woman

Ive started to notice sexism in my social life. If I’m seen giving orders it’s “micromanaging” “okay mum” “controlling” where as if a man does these things he is listened to, its “teaching” or “helping”.

I allowed myself to be held by men in a way that made me feel uncomfortable but “was just friendly”, talked to and about hyper sexually as an object to be seen and touched.

As a woman I am starting to be scared at how much I can see is based on nothing but my gender, no matter how much I know about an area, there will always be a dumber, more stupid man being listened to by many more.

When I use my sexuality to my advantage, as a way to make money, and to gain confidence. It’s seen as easy, a waste.

Lifeless

I wasn’t ready for you

Like a bird that can’t yet fly

How could I teach you to

Lifeless

Drained of all my strength

Drained of life

Lifeless

Is how I was left

But I’m back

And I’m teaching myself how to fly

So one day you will too

And I’ll be soaring through the skies

Before I ever get to meet you

Because I need to go through the worst

To teach you to navigate a storm

And feel the best

So that you can always feel my warmth

But today was not the time

As I have yet to build a nest

But one day I hope I will feel your life against my chest

Taylor Hopewell

I was young

I was young and dumb

it started by carving my hand

with the nail on my thumb

But then I started etching my doodles

into my skin

Before I knew what self-harm was

I had no way of stopping it

It started as art

then became a control

Controlling depression

Trying to lessen

Never learning the lesson

On how else do I deal with all this shit unless I can show it

You need battle scars to prove your battle

So I make them

And I use them as a diary

I can trace each one back to a day or an episode

I can remember how shit I felt

And I can see that I have no fresh ones

Theres a lot of bare skin

So there must be something coming

There must be something on its way

But it’s been so long now

And nothings changed

Have I left it all behind?

Or will I fall again

My story

Once upon a time there was a girl

Who suddenly felt sad

And glad

That she just took those 12 paracetamol, 3 sleeping pills and 2 tranquillisers

At the age of 12

She loved the blood that covered her bruised knuckles

And the way her body was now filled with scars and open slits

She remembered the time

At the age of 15

When she woke up in hospital, tangled in tubes

Because she took enough to knock her out this time

Whose scars people still mistake for stretch marks

There was a girl who worked so hard to be able to write her story

From the outside

I am girl who was that girl

But that girl is no longer me

Because I know its my story but I no longer identify with her even though we share our memories

I love my scars because they show me how far I have come, not because of the empty space between them

I love my mind because they let me know theres still miles to run, not all the ways and days until I end it

I always told myself I would kill myself successfully before I’m 18… I’m 18 now

Im starting a new story, but this one takes place in another land

With a different girl

I knew I wouldn’t make it past 18, and I am so glad that that me didn’t.

Taylor

Trigger warning

Trigger warning,

it wont be nice

You wont be able to look people in the eyes.

Trigger warning,

those who don’t know will make jokes

unaware of the emotions it evokes.

Trigger warning,

someone will find out

and they will ask what its all about

Trigger warning,

when they know it will hurt them more

than its ever hurt you before

The road is tough

Rough and grim

I‘ve been through it a lot

Glad that I did

Glamorized by society

Everyone knows but nobody hears

Reading stories about my biggest fears

Taylor

Self-harm is a big issue, because although there is more awareness its being glamorized in society. This poem also I wrote because people don’t understand that somethings they post can trigger someone who has gone through it, or when someone says it as a joke, it can deeply bring back feeling for those who have dealt or are dealing with this problem.