Tag: depression

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

You can’t ask a broken person

To believe your words with no actions

With contrary reactions

With promises unkept

You can’t ask me to believe that you love me

When what I want is just hug me

All I need is a friend

I can’t feel loved if you leave me

I can’t feel loved if you don’t care

I want to feel like you need me

But you only try to get me out your hair

Taylor Hopewell

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

machine me

My scars don’t define me

They are merely scratches on the surface of this body

This body that I hold

I am my body and my past, but it is not me

That’s how I gain my confidence

By knowing I am so much more than my physical

I’m actually not what’s visible at all

I am a mind, and a soul, that can’t be seen only felt

Can not be explained only experienced

I love the body that contains me

Even tho it has been harmed

I love the bones that keep me upright

Structures and alarmed,

with triggers and buttons that only I know best

But I am missing one button that allows me to rest

I know the procedure, but don’t have the code

My body is a machine, that I must decipher

If I want to be released from this world

I must try to figure out combinations and patterns and passwords

To fully experience myself, I must understand the key

To unlocking to door, to set me free

My body is mine, but it is not me

The world is a place that I can’t quite see

Can’t see past the glass windows mistaken for eyes

or feel past the sensors thought to be skin

or the control centre…my mind

Taylor

Fingertips

Fingertips on skin

Like faulty wires

Electric sparks

But beware for flammable items

For they can clearly catch alight

But sometimes they dont look flammable

And we mistake objectifying for dirty talk

Mistaking possessiveness for lust

And controlling for in love

Like a pool of gasoline

The wire is engulfed in flames

Not possible to escape with out burns

Burns on your heart

So the next connection you make

You may be the one to break

But I hope you atleast learnt to keep yourself safe

And keep the flammables away

Taylor

A poem about toxic relationships, how the magic that love, caring, and sex has is wonderful but with bad people (flammable people) it becomes overwhelming and toxic.

Fall or fly

And I fall sometimes

I fall

Or am I just flying

It feels like Im dying

Yet weightless

Every problem off my shoulder

Am I gliding? Surviving?

Or will I hit the ground in a crash

I never know how far down I’ll go

Before my wings open up again

But Im scared that one day they wont

Taylor

Scared of myself

I’m scared of or for myself

Because I know confinement drowns me

And I can feel my lungs slowly filling

And I always rely on someones hand to pull me up

But we are in lockdown

The only hands are those of my family

And I have brought them under with me too many times

Nothing feels right

What am I supposed to do when I’m left alone with my mind?

Taylor

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