poem: Words

Words

The words that formed in your mind seemed perfect to say at the time

But did you realize that they were weapons of mass destruction?

Bullets, fireballs, knives, stones,

Burning holes in her soul

Leaking out the small morsel of self-esteem she managed to collect just a minute ago

Now burst into flame

With her shame

With her tears, which she is now trying to hide.

Oh those perfect words you thought you said

They just destroyed her again. Made her feel small, like nothing at all

Those words you said, are not just words.

They make or break souls.

poem: Anxiety

Anxiety

It’s like a film over a window so u can’t see clearly.

The party pooper that always shows up

The adrenaline rush you didn’t ask for

Everything becomes an emotional chore. Everything is a big deal.

Washing the dishes, going to the grocery store, calling a friend

For “normals” it doesn’t take a second thought, for us we’re lucky there is not a third or fourth thought.

Over analyze is our middle name

I am over analyzing this poem right now

I am anxious to finish this poem

Is it good? Good enough? Am I good enough? I did something wrong, I shouldn’t have said that, no yes….explosion.

Heart pounding, breath leaving, sounds sharper, thoughts racing, I’m dying

Out of control. Panic.

Klonapin. Relief.

For now. 

poem: Trapped

Trapped

I feel trapped.

I’m smothered, I can’t breathe

It’s hard to move, to get free

From life’s “obligations” and awkward conversations

From what I’m supposed to want, to do, to be

I want to be free

To be me

To be happy

To sing

To dance

To play

To cry

Society has created a box so heavily sealed by rules and regulations

“norms” and expectations

Expecting me to fit in the same size fits all life of everyone else when everyone else is nothing like me

My wishes and dreams, what do they mean, can I really “go after my dreams” live the “American dream”

Of years of stress and angst and tears and loans upon loans to begin my life as adult with a pile of debt

That I will carry in my mind on my back for years

While the bank makes millions off the interest.

The walls are closing in, I can’t breath

I’m trapped.