And I Wonder

Pic via pinterest

Is it normal to grieve yourself?

And still yearn the grief?

To know you'll be eternally hurting,

Why is it such a relief?

Tw: self harm, ed

Alternate universe

In an alternate universe,

I am 14 and alone in my room,

And my hands haven't harmed myself yet.

In an alternate universe,

My mom isn't emotionally dead,

And my dad isn't the monster yet.

In an alternate universe,

I still have her by my side,

I haven't screwed everything yet.

In an alternate universe,

I don't flinch when I look in the mirror,

There are no scars on my thighs yet.

In an alternate universe,

I still eat like a normal person,

I haven't ruined myself yet.

I fell for you gently as leaves do on a dreary autumn evening.

You continued to bloom delicately as you were the sweetest child of spring.

Unnoticed for years, my world has been touched by you.

In running away from home, I found a home in you.

I fell for you, like hades fell for persephone

And I am falling, like moon falls around the earth still.

I write this with my love, hoping that you might see this too.

I share this with the world, but really it only ever was for you.

he called me neurotic

but what i think he really meant

was that the roots of my anxiety

are growing deep within my head

-

sometimes my thoughts run far

away, escape all rhyme and reason

the seeds of logic overthrown

by the fruits of anxious seasons

-

i just take my time to breathe

and think up a solution

i take a minute and i trawl

through the depths of this pollution

-

poison planted in my mind

by words and dirty looks i catch

in a net of pure self hate

in which fearful thoughts hatch

-

he called me neurotic

and sure, ill take it on the nose

my garden of fear and self hate

truly needed that last rose.

-

(photo via)

The grave that I call my home

Where love doesn't exist.

The monster that I call my father

For whom peace doesn't exist.

The demon that I call my mother

For whom compassion doesn't exist.

The nightmare that I call my world

For which I dont exist.

The despair that I call myself

For whom joy doesnt exist.

The curse that I call my life

Where living doesn't exist.

Pic via pinterest

To simply exist in all her devotion.

The worst thing you ever did was to make me believe I could be loved

What is family if not hate disguised as love

Alternate universe

In an alternate universe

I am 14 and alone in my room

And my hands havent harmed myself yet

There is love in my mother's disapproval.

It is there in the way she looks at me,

The way she loathes my existence.

It's not visible but it's there.

There is love in my father's resentment.

It is there in the way he talks to me,

The way he is ashamed of me.

It's not apparent but it's there.

There is love in my family.

It is there in broken dreams.

It is there in domestic scars.

So much love that you almost mistake it for hate.