Poets is powered by Vocal.
Vocal is a platform that provides storytelling tools and engaged communities for writers, musicians, filmmakers, podcasters, and other creators to get discovered and fund their creativity.
How does Vocal work?
Creators share their stories on Vocal’s communities. In return, creators earn money when they are tipped and when their stories are read.
How do I join Vocal?
Vocal welcomes creators of all shapes and sizes. Join for free and start creating.
To learn more about Vocal, visit our resources.Show less
Why do you gotta think I'm always fine, don't you realize the stress I hide?
Behind my eyes and believable lies- you'll never know how often I cry.
My mind is an eggshell- delicate and fragile.
The stress alone is intoxicating, nicotine patches and AA have no meaning to me.
What's a therapist really going to do, I'm sure they all have problems too.
Why do you gotta think I'm fine- don't you realize the stress I hide?
Behind my eyes and believable lies- You'll never know the battles I fight.
Everyday is a fight to survive- all I want to do is stay alive.
So for those who ask, no I'm not alright and no I don't want to talk about whats on my mind.
I know your going to ask me why- answer is its something I just want to hide. I don't want to remember the abuse, or how much booze he used- or how many living arrangements I went through. Many regrets throughout my life....so many mistakes I made thrice. Now it seems I need therapy- but what good will it really do for me?
"Talk about your issues its ok- I wont tell a soul anything you say. I'll hold your hand and guide you along the way- with weekly appointments and medicine you'll be okay.".... its a tempting phrase, making me believe my issues will fade- but deep down the damage is done, medicine or not whats done is done. The pill cant erase my memories, or fix the mistakes that I chose to make.
I just gotta keep looking to the sun, remembering that I'm not the only one. Approach me with caution until I'm done-I don't want my problems to shoot the gun. Five years of moving, no place to call home- I'm sick and tired of being on my own. It's so gratifying too know that after all I did, your still running the show.
"Leave my clothes at home"
"let them eat cake"- it goes without saying all your kind gestures were fake.
"Talk about your issues its ok- I wont tell a soul anything you say. I'll hold your hand and guide you along the way- with weekly appointments and medicine you'll be okay"- I wonder if things really work this way?