anxiety · bpd · depression · help · mental health · poetry · reading · spoken word · stigma

The Struggle

Oh how bitter these sorrows taste,
Positive thinking just gone to waste.
I crave a glass of something sharp and sweet,
Only a drop wouldn’t mean I’m a cheat.
These healthy remedies cannot blur my mind,
And depriving me of this escape seems so unkind.
I want to go out dancing and let my hair down,
Have a few shots then hit up the town!
Each drink made me feel lighter as my cares would melt away,
Leading me to believe I’ve outsmarted my dark day.
Yet wait, I see in the distance here comes the storm,
One moment I’m laughing and joking, the next I transform!
Becoming this tornado destroying everything in my path,
I beg don’t get in my way as I cannot stop my wrath!
Sweet liquid you tricked me, I thought you’d set me free,
Why can’t I be like the others having fun around me?
These feelings become a fire of which even you can’t put out,
A flammable liquid that once taken sends the flames throughout.
Even though I know this is the outcome I still struggle to avoid,
watching others out there having fun makes me so annoyed!
But all the things your poison stole from me cuts deeper than any knife,
and even though the struggle is real without you I’ve had a chance to take back my life.

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