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
Tag: awareness
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.
Keep on telling myself
You love to hard
Not hard enough
No one will like you
You act too tough
Open your doors
But only a crack
If not they will swing
All the way back
And no ones ready for your demons
No ones ready for the truth
So just smile and tell a lie
There’s too many people to lose
Not ready to say goodbye
Taylor
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.