The Never Ending Battle of the Mind

There are no words
to describe that shred of desperation
that runs through me,
somewhere between potential futures
and former fiascoes
I try my best to make myself work
but I define myself defunct
and fail to feel any fortitude for myself.

For others it's hard to define
how I could have difficulty
believing in myself
but it's a battle of the mind,
something VERY easy to hide,
how I slip in to deep dark
corners and crevices
of what I could be
and what I feel like I'll never
be able to achieve.

You could say
it's a purgatory for the mind,
possibly a place
where I won't be left behind
but still stand far
from where I want to be
and the question I always ask myself is,
did I put myself here?

I don't want to leave myself blind
because I can't seem to see
past this ugly place in my mind,

where moving on becomes
something less than a step at a time,
and where motivation loses its meaning.

No, I want to be strong, desperately brave,
and capable of anything I want to achieve.

The challenge will always rest
in getting my brain to agree with this idea
but it's something I eventually hope to accomplish.

An Open Book

She's a faceless girl
with a dead childhood.

She has old cracked
8mm film memories
that tend to bring tears
to her darkened eyes.

Everyone she once loved is gone,
they've moved on long ago
or time passed them away,

but thankfully, now,
she's trying to teach us
that childhood can
last a lifetime if you let it.

She's trying to say that fairy tales
only ever end when the author
writes happily ever after,

but we're not characters
in a storybook,
we're the authors of our own accord.

Each of us are individuals
with a history of our own to write
and staying young
requires just as much responsibility
as growing old.

We're millions of open ended stories
that will carry on indefinitely.

Wishful Thinking

Even in my ending
I hope I can be
either an inspiration
or an example
of what not to be
for those like me
who struggle to survive.

Since we're all existing
in this world together,
I think it's best
we see eye to eye

and learn from each other,

instead of scorning everything
beyond our understanding.

If only everyone could freely see
each perspective that such
a vast world could offer,

maybe we'd be more open
to understanding
rather than removing
those with different insight
from our vision entirely.

A Loudly Beating Heart

My mind slips away
in to some sort of oblivion
while wondering where the year has gone
because at times it feels
like it just wasted away,
but then I ask myself,

What more could I have possibly done?

Why do I never feel productive enough?

I set myself some lofty goals
and achieve each and every one
with down time to spare.

Yet this heart
still feels like it needs
a voice in this world

and it will always beat
with a stubborn determination
to carry out that plan,

until it's very last beat.

You're Not Controlling Me Anymore

For a long time
I locked my ideas
away somewhere
I thought was safe,

simply stowed away
somewhere in my brain,
but only slightly jotted down
to refresh the memory
so that in no way could
you ever find the meaning
in just one line.

I'd leave you existing to search,
and let you struggle
before I ever let you invade my mind
or steal any ideas of it's creation.

No, these words are not
for the common reader,
but for the theft committed
against any common writer.

You need to know that
I'd self destruct before I ever
allowed you tear your way
into that part of my life ever again.

I'm Sorry to Say

The name is affection
and it's not entirely proud
of caring for everyone it does

but nonetheless, know
that you're in it's heart
and you'll be there always.

It's a place it'll forever
hold on to the memory
of the friendships forgotten.

Each of your faces are
so deeply engrained into
it's memory that they use to
haunt it's ghost town of a mind,

but that empty town's
been filled without you.

I'm a Could've Been.

When you say you understand,
do you?

Do you truly understand how it feels
to be completely trapped inside yourself?

Can you even begin to comprehend
how high my hopes get
about things I know
I'll never even achieve?

Then,
there I go,
once again
tripping,
I crash face first
into the hardest
concrete of my life.

I don't have much to offer,
I've got nothing to offer the real world,
whatever that is.

I know, I offered you myself
and at one time that was enough
but now I'm not so sure.

I offer the world my words,
it doesn't have to listen,
it just has to lay them out
for someone to see,
but until then. . .

You Need to do This For Yourself.

When I'm heartbroken
by the things I hear
happening around me,
I see I'm not in a good place,
but continuously tell myself,
I won't give in,

I won't give in. . .

It doesn't matter
what I've seen others do,
or how they've let
the worst conquer them,
and even when it seems nice
to slip away into that dark place
sulking with the covers over my face,

a face that I never wanted anyone to see. . .

I have to remind myself that;
yes,
I do matter,
whether or not I want to believe it,
and yes,
my life does have some sort of meaning,
and even if it isn't meaningful to myself,
it is to someone else.

It's such a lack of self-realization,
but I can't let it crowd my thoughts too long,
because I've got things to do
and people to care for.

I told myself,
No one's going to do this for me.

If You Think This was Written for You, It Probably Was

Just because you hate yourself so often,
doesn't mean you don't
have a shred of self endearment.

Too many people
hold this misconception
about mental illness,
it doesn't mean that
you don't love yourself,
it means you're
learning to live with yourself,
learning to live with your affliction.

Unfortunately many of us
will never have the opportunity
to share this bit of knowledge,
but I know that you're not only
completely capable of loving yourself,
you're also completely capable of being loved
and completely capable of loving anyone you choose.

So don't let any 'someone'
try to tell you that you can't love or be loved
until you learn to love yourself.

It's just not true.

November Never Felt so Cold to Me

The weather is changing
and I can't sleep.

Daylight savings
dream only of killing
my circadian cycle.

This is it for us,
Winter, you treat
me like a window.

Open me up
and blow cold air
all through me.

Yet you're so lovely,
at least you use to be.

What happened
to your crisp snow,
or frosted glass roses
that I remember so clearly
from my childhood?

You see right through me,
 and you left me gross
and staring at soggy black snow
on the side of the road.

Winter, you became cruel to me,
still somehow I see you the same
as you use to be back home.