Warning: This work has been rated 16+.
(Chunk of an old piece I wrote in 2024, enjoy)
Why does it hurt? That empty space in my soul,
The dark that dwells in my chest.
Black as unlit coal,
painful as a knife stabbed and left to rest.Ā
How can something ache and sting, but also never exist?Ā
Why is my Ghost, my very soul, just a thick gray mist.
Iām caught in the dark strong waters of life,
so cruel and heartless in its currents as they grasp.
I claw and gasp against its endless strife,
But in the end all I have is a rasp before night.
Night. I find comfort in the shadows, while My mind screams Its pain.Ā
Maybe since my demons, who peer through the windows, watch me struggle in my strain.
Why do I find Solace in the pale eyes of the dark?
Maybe because I feel wanted from the hunger they have as they lurk.
I sit in the silence loud in my head,
The Voices, so desperate, reminding me why I feel dead.
Lies? That must be it, but they sound too true.
And a demon lies as much as an angel would do.
The hand That reaches to my shoulder through the dark,
the devil himself in the midst of my sadness.
I look up in fear,
maybe horns like a goat, or teeth like a shark,
but who I see staring back, is one I thought never matters.
Grey eyes looking empty, face twisted with shame,
like a mirror, I knew, only I was to blame.
In a blink, they were gone, or the devil who was me.
I cried out in silence, to heavy with burdens to breathe.
I hide this from my parents, and the friends I know,
in fear theyāll know IāmĀ broken, and have nothing to show.
I fear theyāll think Iām weak, so the hardest jobs I take,
but that only piles to the invisible weight I canāt seem to shake.
Stress, anxiety, uncertainty, exhaustion, demons that cling without my will.
But I learned to tolerate them, at least until my mind draws blank and still.
Lifeās miserable, I donāt know how much I can hold,
but itās ok, I have an amazing life, so Iām always told.
But they donāt know, IāmĀ hurting everyday.
They donāt know the things they say or do stabs me deep.
I just wish, with all my powerless will, as I feel demons and Voices creep.
With all my tired soul and weary mind. With all the pain I feel so deep inside.
For _____.
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Something about this was beautiful, im not sure what but I loved the "devil" is rather a reflection of the narrator or rather maybe turning into the "devil"
This is absolutely beautiful, poems about mental health are struggle, are the purest poems of all. I hope you are doing wonderfully now, I undertstand how unworthy life feels sometimes. Btw I followed you to keep seeing your work, keep it up! :3
-Project Moss
This was such a dark and emotional piece. I really liked how the ādevilā slowly turns into a reflection of the narrator, because that makes the whole piece feel much more personal and haunting. The imagery of the dark water, demons, shadows, and the mirror worked really well together. I also loved the line about an angel and a demon both being capable of lyingāit made me stop and think. The ending feels especially painful because of how much the narrator hides from the people around them. You can really feel the exhaustion and loneliness throughout the poem.