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When The Glitter Washes Off

by Oneg In The Arctic 3 months ago in surreal poetry
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An Exposed Poem

When The Glitter Washes Off
Photo by Mukul Kumar on Unsplash

I keep trying to write about something other than depression

But every time I commit ink to paper, I find it in the middle of every page

I can feel the sinking depression of the pen pressed against my paper skin

I can feel the weight of my words pushing down on my own shoulders as I try and write out this ache inside of me

I swear I'm not so sad all the time

But sometimes, I don't remember how I got from start to finish

I don't even know how I got to this point

They said I did poetry

That I won

That everything is okay

But honestly

All I keep seeing is your father getting closer and closer

I was so scared he was going to hit you

-

You said he never did

But that his words were what cut through you like freshly sharpened knives

Etching painful memories into your bloody back

He was unpredictable

But so am I

And I honestly don't even know how tonight was going to go

If I even remember how I got home

-

I know I am trying to hide things from myself

I know I am trying to hide in myself

To get lost and find that spark again

Maybe it's lingering in between skin and tissue

My cartilage is rubbing thin though

And now it's just bone against bone against bone

I feel like a skeleton

This paper skin, is just a coverup

-

Yet

I am trying to find a working lighter

Something to help spark the light back into me

To show me the way to knowing what I want and who I am again

There's just been too much darkness

And I'm tired of ruining my vision with little flashing lights in the pitch black

But it's hard when everyone around you is feeling just as blind too

-

And it's hard when I'm stuck in sudden flashbacks and uncertainties about the blackouts

I keep trying to remember and be there to give love to those who don't know what that really means

But

Every piece given is a piece gone

And it's been like that for a while now

-

I give too much away until I feel empty without and empty within

But how can I care without caring

How can I spare myself from all this sadness but also love at the same time

This is not what love is supposed to be to me

-

Love is not the opposite of hate

And I won't let it be

-

So I'm trying

Trying to be more aware and participate

Because living with one foot in and one foot out the door is not how I want to see the world

I want to get back to noticing how fucking beautiful everything around me is

And to learn how to notice the small beauties about myself because there's got to be something there

I didn't make it all this way for nothing

-

You know what my happy thought is?

Taking my kid to their first day of grade one

-

That's

What keep me going.

surreal poetry

About the author

Oneg In The Arctic

Stories from the TRUE NORTH with a side of humour, adventure, good food, and snowy poetic dreams

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Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

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  1. Compelling and original writing

    Creative use of language & vocab

  2. Easy to read and follow

    Well-structured & engaging content

  3. Heartfelt and relatable

    The story invoked strong personal emotions

  1. Excellent storytelling

    Original narrative & well developed characters

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    Niche topic & fresh perspectives

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    Writing reflected the title & theme

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Comments (10)

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  • Dawn Salois2 months ago

    So sad and relatable. I loved the happy thought at the end.

  • Heather Hubler3 months ago

    Such beautiful and emotional language. So very easy to relate to. Well done :)

  • Keila Aartila3 months ago

    Wow! This is beautifully tormenting. So. emotionally raw and vulnerable. The writing is fantastic.

  • Denise E Lindquist3 months ago

    Thank you!

  • Whoaaa this was absolute beautiful!

  • Hassan3 months ago

    Very well written!

  • C. Rommial Butler3 months ago

    "I can feel the sinking depression of the pen pressed against my paper skin" This line is a short poem unto itself: I can feel The sinking Depression Of the pen Pressed against My paper skin An excellent double--maybe triple?--entendre!

  • Caroline Jane3 months ago

  • C. H. Richard3 months ago

    Love this line, "Every piece given is a piece gone." Well done.

  • Cathy holmes3 months ago

    Beautifully said.

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