by Hannah Lizette   Oct 22, 2018

Eyes flicker as anxiety
climbs the walls
of a heart that struggles to beat

Every. Single. Second.

Voices stain my mind,
obsessive lists of aches and
memories that can no longer be
romanticized -
numbness lives here now.

Peel back my flesh
and it'll reveal words
chiseled on my bones,
gallons of tears I've stored
for the days I allow myself to rain.
(Today is not that day.)

I've battled ideations
of plucking veins and
looping them into a familiar knot
but I rope myself back in
off the ledge

Every. Single. Time.

I'll never be a transplant candidate,
depression is seared onto my organs,
a plague I'll never find a cure for.

(Anger is the only fuel
my lungs agree to absorb,
the only time I can truly breathe.)

I am nothing more
than an empty home
that cradles mental illness
and undresses a diagnosis
titled Poetry.


Please forgive me,
One. More. Time.

© Hannah H. 2018


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Latest Comments

  • 4 years ago

    by D.

    A really haunting but sweet write. Deep but not sentimental, and dark without being rich with hyperbole. I enjoyed the repetition, it really worked here.

  • 4 years ago

    by Milly Hayward

    Dark bit soul wrenching piece. Honest and raw that takes the reader into the darkness of depression. Milly x

  • 4 years ago

    by Mr. Darcy

    Amazing. Every. Time.

  • 4 years ago

    by Brenda

    Hannah, such a deep raw write. Thank you for sharing this personal piece. Hugs-

  • 4 years ago

    by Scott Cole

    Great job awesome write very sad though

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