PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It doesn't seem that long ago,

But the differences can clearly show.

I hope that anyone who goes,

Through all I did can someday know,

That they can make it through it too,

Cuz I was more messed up than you......



It didn't even have to be a bad day,

I'd always react and respond in a bad way.

All day long it felt so enticing,

The daily masochistic slicing.

When I would fade away, and lay the weight of the day,

In the razor's way, and paint my sheets a rosey shade.

Beside my bed, outside my head,

My face a fright, bright with lamp light,

Squeeze tight my knife and I'd,

Bleed myself to sleep every week night.

I can't believe the dreams that weaved,

Their twisted schemes, and teams of demons,

LEGIONS squeezed themselves inside my head,

And bred, and spread till my whole head,

Was filled. It killed, like drills were tearing,

I stopped caring about the life I was barely bearing.

Popped a bottle of pills, thinking that'd make it better,

Tore my skin till it spilled blood and soaked through my sweater.

But nothing ever stopped the hurt,

My "cures" only ever made it worse.

So, more severe, and more extreme,

But with the same destructive theme.

When I just couldn't take the day,

I made my body my own ash tray.

I still don't understand my own reasonings yet,

Why that seemed like a good way to put out a cigarette.



And Jesus hung there, calling, reaching,

Out to me, despite my screeching.

But all I ever heard was preaching,

Till I was finally tired of weeding.

And I reached up and grabbed Him firmly,

While He fought my demons and affirmed me.

He sings love songs to drown the war drum,

That fills the hell that I was torn from.

      - Alex