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Trigger Warning: This poem includes metaphorical language of self-harm. If you or a loved one have thoughts about suicide or self-harm, here are resources for you to reach out to get help.
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You are not alone <3
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------You have broken me down to the last bit of life. I barely held on tonight yet,
you still make me live my nightmare.
You built me to be kind, loving and understanding, everything that everyone around me isn't.
My soul is old and passed on from the lives before my time,
somehow I ended up in the wrong era.
I am old and young, complex and straightforward, fearless and scared,
but ultimately alone in this world.
Why did you bring me here with these people who do not understand my mind?
I am the Van Gogh of this time,
continuously made to feel unimportant.
Shall I cut an ear off? Or maybe a limb to show that I am real and human and still have some sort of feelings?
Would that be enough?
My art is what I leave behind, but I do not feel done with this world just yet,
all I ask is for the kindness you bestowed in my heart to be present in those who ever may interact with me.
I am old and young, but both are tired and want peace. This world has broken me, but I do not want to remain broken.
About the Creator
Angel Adagio
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making space
Since the only thing that might pull us back up is caring, it only makes sense that here, long after I’ve let my anger born of heartbreak and grief misplace, multiply, misdirect itself, let the enormity of my solitude turn into something I don’t know how to dispute with, something thick and heavy and suffocating, let the coldness thrash and fight under my skin, deeper still, in between the arches of my organs; here where the ground is always close and the fall is easy and I surrender to it often, lie without purpose for hours, it only makes sense that it is here, I decide to show up and surrender to the possibilities of the night. Show up to those who I deserted. Drawn to the sense of accomplishment, something I haven’t felt in a while, to memory of finished dish sending its aroma into the world and with it, wrapping the room with a strong sense of sweet nostalgia, I get up and decide to cook. I pick up my phone, type a message that reads “Dinner at mine @ 8PM, don’t bring anything” and before my courage deserts me again, drop it in our friends’ group chat, the way one would do when diffusing a bomb in the movies: one eye closed, snip at the wire, hoping for the best.
By Mesh Toraskar4 days ago in Feast
Comments (1)
This was so poignant and emotional. Sending you lots of love and hugs ❤️