Pills and Me

I’ve grown old with pain
As a part of me that has
Spread more viciously with
Each passing year of my
Life I can’t keep up with
The pace at most days to
Keep functioning it starts
Off with two pills and when
The world spins it’s time for
Another two that help me to
Put it to a light sleep till the
Monster wakes up completely
Lashing angrily at me for the
Deceitful act done against it
There is a war inside as my
My bones crash and clash
Causing me to wheeze and
Hopelessly try to keep myself
Calm but my hands tremble as
My vision blurs into an abyss
Any humanly action hurts now
Slowly I gulp down another
Three, relishing their taste
Hating what I’ve become
Falling in this trap created
By my own mistakes and
Life’s games it mercilessly
Likes to play with me day
After day and so I wither
Away silently waiting for an
Escape route knowing that
I was steadily getting near to
The end of the road which
Would have no open doors
For me but I refuse to leave
This road of self destruction
I willingly walk for it’s the only
Thing I can truly call mine

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Anger

Note: This poem contains abusive language


The feeling is almost lethal tonight
A fire starts destroying all emotions
Taking up every empty space within
‘Bastard’ the dark clouds are raging
My hands tremble and the world spins
The body of a bloodied infant flashes
In front of my eyes mocking my soul
‘Assholes’ the glass shatters on the floor
The screams of a mother echo around
Tearing my heart like a hungry animal
‘Bitch’ I cringe as my knuckles crack
Tears of bruised five year old so clear
Like a vivid painting etched in my mind
Humanity is as rare as true happiness
‘Fuc*ers’ the floor decorates in crimson
His pleas to the butchers still resonate
The walls oddly remind me of coffins
3:00 a.m. regrets and despair drown me
The world looks so dark and burdened
With all the glorified tales that media
Shoves down our throats for profits
I wince unsure of the pain I go through
Tonight I bleed to strangle the voice of
My soul, gnawing at my skin pointing
How brutally self centered my life is


http://penningmyvoice.com/anger/

Who am I? -II

The idea of reducing people to their names, their degrees or accomplishments doesn’t fit in my head. It never did. If somebody asked you who you were, what will your answer be? You can ask me to talk about anything under the sun and over the moon but if someone asked me simple question of who I was? I wouldn’t know and the sinking feeling that perhaps nobody else does either.

If I took off the layers of masks that I wear, will you be able to stand what you see? The fake smile that is permanently fixed on the face like the old grandfather’s clock hanging in the lounge which my parents refuse to get rid of reminds me of how I don’t know what a genuine smile looks like anymore. The words that leave me my mouth and make way to your ears are what you want to hear and not what I want to say. What is that I want to say? I’m not sure, inside the depths of the mind all I see is cold bleak layers of snow after snow. Trying to remove the snow from the corners and alleys causes me to wince in pain as the snow is cemented, the real self buried underneath and barely showing any signs of life anymore.

As I stumble and fall across the crisscross paths looking for answers, calling out my name, I hear nothing back except the void and hollow blackness that surrounds me. A sense of panic crawls up my spine and my hands tremble, I will never stop searching if I didn’t find myself. Madness, sits calmly on a settee watching this in utter delight with eyes never leaving its prey. All it needs is a chance to take over and rein the distorted and cracked building; it’s only a matter of time now.

Maybe the answer lies underneath the skin, I will stop at nothing. I’m willing to peel off the skin to my very bones if that is what will give me the answers I want. I can hear drumming in my ears, someone is calling me frantically, asking me to stop but I shut out the voice. In deep well of the mind, madness claps in glee and jumps up and down in delight, it’s finally happening. I grimace in pain and I see the floor color changing, from as white as the hospital sheets to as red as a carnivore’s party.

I look up confused as the world begins to shake; fuzzy clouds and sharp lights are all around calling me. I hear someone begging, pleading “What!! What are you doing? What is this? What have you done” The voice holds so much pain that my own heart crushes under it. I narrow my eyes to focus at the face and mumble incoherent words as I fall into his arms, home. Even when the pale chapped walls start falling to the floor, I know I’m home.

“Who am I? Do you know who am I?” the words she spoke before she lost consciousness and in that one moment something shattered within him and the glasses of shard cut through his veins. As he picked her up and rushed outside the only thought running through his desperate mind was, “I know who you’re; I’ve always known who you’re. why wouldn’t you ask me