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Daily Battles

A Poem

Mental health | Daily battles 

You always had something to say

When they asked if you already ate.

They’ll still eye those untouched scraps that wobble on your plate but each day is a clean slate, a new chance to consume less, to be too small for that dress, to hide that ugly dark mess that runs rampant in your head. Endless nightmares soaked in your sheets, dripping off your bed and all the things they said with half a heart and zero head

Pushing you down beneath the water you so carefully tread without even so much as a second thought as to how distraught they were really making you feel, how they stamped with a wax seal a convenient little package containing all the self hate that was destined to never stop ringing within your bones. Just be smaller

And maybe then they’ll holler maybe then they’ll like you, you’ll be shining like gold are you sold? Cold.

Your skin is ice forever a frozen pond once broken cracked twice

And wouldn’t it be nice if your little

Secret vice didn’t come at such a high price? But it does as your ears ring and buzz amongst their voices like thunder you pray to god you won’t blunder see through those stars ignore that dizziness that encircles your eyes because weakness is uncomfortable your tears are awkward your pain is weird they’ll wonder and talk because they have no clue who you

Really are. Those scars embody the mirror you cower from "Why is she crying?” But you’re not, are you?

You’re dying.

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Daily Battles
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