Tormented
You can't quiet a racing mind, filled with all the most hurrendous of thoughts.
You can't erase the images of things, real and fake, when you're stuck in a never ending spiral. You can't sleep, you can't eat, you don't truly focus on anything. Laughter is suddenly replaced with tears, love replaced with heartbreak, the sun replaced with the darkest and thickest of clouds.
You can't think rationally when you're in that state of mind. You think of every mistake you've ever made, big or small. You dwell and repeat all the negative words people have said to you, like a broken record. All your bad memories come back, replaying over and over like a never ending film. You feel worthless, not enough and never will be. You feel like you're obly option is to either disappear or die.
Your happiness is replaced with darkness. It's inky and greedy claws sink into your mind, similar to an elephant in quicksand, taking more and more of the light inside you to feed its hunger. Darkness surrounds your light and devours it without mercy, leaving not even the smallest sliver to grasp onto.
You're desperately and frantically struggling to find something, anything, to give you reason to keep going but you can't find anything to hold onto while drowning in the darkness.
Nothing is okay. Nothing has ever been okay. No one understands just how painful it is, to always fight the demons in your head. No one quite understands how lonely it is either. You can't describe to others how you feel adequately enough for them to understand, even in the tiniest of ways.
When the heart gets broken, you don't burn photographs, you don't join therapy sessions, you don't smoke too many cigarettes. Nor do you drown yourself in alcohol.
You scratch your wounds daily and never let them heal. You don't try to get rid of the pain. Instead you let it grow within you.
You water the seeds of sorrow with your tears. You feed it with the manure of old memories. You take it to sleep with you and nurture it in yourself, til the moment when every single drop of your blood gets replaced by this pain. Until your fragile heart can bear no more and your soul starts overflowing with emotions.
That's when you dip your pen into this pain and empty your heart on a piece of paper. You bare your soul for us to feel. You create poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come but never truly understand how the pain feels or the deeper meaning of the words and courage it took to spill that ink.
It's all really tragic, how this life works for some but not for others. So tragic how such a beautiful soul and mind can be in so much torment all the time. Torment and agony that's hidden deep down inside, where no one can see or glimpse the darkness roaming inside of you.
