Phoebe Carmichael
Stories (5/0)
Trapped in My Own Mind
Sometimes, mental illness feels like you're stuck. Can't get in, can't get out. You just kinda stare blankly while sitting at the edge of your bed, wondering what you can do. The medicine helps, but it doesn't cure it, lets be real here. In this poem, we view the feeling of mental health taking over as being trapped in a deep well with the stone covering the top. Lonely, afraid, and dying to get out.
By Phoebe Carmichael6 years ago in Poets
Schizophrenia
I've suffered from Psychosis (Schizophrenia) since I was 13-years-old. Voices, visions, smells, feelings, men, women, monsters, animals. You name it. However, not all of my hallucinations have a threat stained on them. Some are simply meant to be heard. Here, we examine the disorder as a man in a suit. Dark brown hair and lingering dark eyes. We envision the struggle with the illness as a dance. The woman is struggling to let go and free herself, but the man just won't let the music stop.
By Phoebe Carmichael6 years ago in Poets
Feminism
What are women without their voice? We are nothing, really. Just something to make supper and take up space. We, as women, need to stand up for ourselves and truly try to make a difference in this world. This poem explores the expectations of a woman from a man, her "superior." Here, we learn that a woman's voice is not baggage, but the essence of herself.
By Phoebe Carmichael6 years ago in Poets
Poetry Introduction
Mental illness is like a drug. Can't live with it, can't live without it. It latches on to your morals and values and refuses to let go until it has control of you. Makes you question not only your sanity, but how willing you are to move forward. Sometimes you stare out from the front porch and ask yourself "How did I get here?". Physically and mentally speaking. Trying to heal yourself is like grasping for the rose covered in thorns. You know peace will come but first you must encounter the turbulence.
By Phoebe Carmichael6 years ago in Poets
Depression
Depression is one of the most common mental illnesses. For me, I describe it as a loss of feeling. Most people just think it means sad, but that's not the case. It's about losing everything. The way you smile, the way you laugh, losing yourself. You lose interest in your daily activities and slowly find yourself in a hole bigger than you'd imagine.
By Phoebe Carmichael6 years ago in Poets