Scars

Look i know its hard to write stuff about what has happened to you, but it helps... Write a poem about something that has happened to you, something that haunts your memory...

Sanitarium

Hazy thoughts of discontent  
plague my confidence as of late
A dampening of emotions causing
a moldy growth over my conscience
 
I wonder as to whether
my lackluster existence is to blame
Introverted into my own  
claustrophobic prison of doubt
 
Seclusion is starting to wear on me
where there used to be just anxiety
the process of conversion has begun  
mutating back into debilitating insanity  
 
Once insane, always insane
though the intensity comes and goes  
There's a healing process
when you almost find the strength to move on
 
But the disease always seems to resurface
sooner or later it comes creeping back
Consuming the sub-conscience in darkness
taking the clarity out of thought
 
I'm reminiscent now of those dreary years
Forced into a cold, lonely confinement
the intoxication of medications
gradually diminishing any free will
 
Linoleum flooring and a sterile scent
These are the demons that ravage my mind
creating a backdrop for my nightmares
taking place on the coldest nights  
 
I try not to hyperventilate  
My bitterness does not allow anything so pathetic
that could give away my growing trepidation
if only I could convince myself that
 
I can feel that I'm on the brink
crumbling into a puddle of incoherence
What was it he said to me last time?
the third time that I visited that place?
 
These words are always on my mind
"Next time you come in will be the last,
you won't be leaving after that."
For that alone I have persevered  
 
I tried my hardest to leave it behind me
These past years I had become reserved
cynicism driving me into my barren sanctuary
where nothing could affect me  
 
But it has finally caught up with me
I defiantly try to resist the dark
though I can feel it's chilling touch
transforming me into a something less
 
I'm actually terrified  
I don't want to be locked away again
In a patronizing world of restraint
cast in shades of dull white
 
In this place time seems to slow down
lights are piercing rays into your skull
sound taking on a muffled quality  
senses warped into confusion  
 
I remember lying on my bed that first night
crying myself to sleep
thinking there had been some mistake
that nothing like this could have happened to me
 
Now it's all too familiar
My mind is screaming for me to flee
before my insanity catches up with me  
I would do anything to avoid going back there
 
Even if it means taking this gun
cold and unsympathetic in my quivering hand
placing it delicately to my temple
and blowing my fucking brains out
 

can it be about scares in general?

going to bed!!!!!! insomniac.x

My heart is like a symphony
That sings my every pain.
Of all that makes life worthwhile
Only you remain

Only in thoughts of you
Safe, and cared for well
Can I find happiness
In my self-inflicted hell

Only in my love for you
Is there sufficient grace
For me to want to live
In this forsaken place

Oh, God! Were life not beautiful
And love full of light
I could, perhaps, embrace the rage
Of an embittered night

But as it is, I cannot help
But hope for what might be
That though you gave me up, you might
Someday, somehow.. love me

I seen a picture of you today..
And the memories came in a flash..
Ones I never asked for,
All id die to give back

I remember one night..
You two were pretty high..
You stumbled into bed..
But he stayed up that night..

As I layed there crying,
Secretly praying you'd wake up..
Then you could come and rescue me..
But you weren't soon enough..  

When he was satisfied...
I remember seeing my stained bed
Full of the tears from each time,
And the blood I had shed..  

You never dared to question
The bruises on my waist,
And each time you washed my sheets,
You wouldn't look me in the face..

You liked to play pretend...
Eventually, so did I..
I could pretend it didn't hurt,
And I could ignore the pain inside..

Yes it can be

Every single push,
every single hit.
Made me want to give up,
made me want to quit.

You were supposed to be
the one that really cared.
But it was only pain
that you ever shared.

You were supposed to be
the one to hold me when I cry.
But you're the reason for the tears,
for why I wanted to die.

Mom, how could you do this?
What did I do wrong?
Please don't hurt me again.
I'm not that strong.

To be clear: are we writing about something that's scared us, or about something that's scarred us?

The scars I ended up with
pushed through my skin.
They wanted to be seen,
not only held within.

I find them pretty,
but not everyone else thinks so.
The ambulance came
and took me where I didn't want to go.

The mental hospital,
cold and unforgiving.
They medicated me,
watched the dead living.

I finally got out of there
and I drew new scars.
The blood bubbled out,
as beautiful as the stars.

                                 Cold Turkey

Nothing prepares you for what is to come
The only thing you will not suffer is total boredom
Because when it starts one thing you can tell
Is that it would be easier to be living in hell
It's gonna be about a week before you get any sleep
You will wish the one with the syth here and beginning his reap
Then start the aches and pains like never before
Wondering if it would have helped if you had nailed up the door
Because your in for a ride, the ride of your life
Another good idea is to hide every knive
Because you may even look to take the easy way out
But you have to keep at it and not even think to pullout
But it's gonna get worse to the end of your wits
Cos now you can't eat anything and you've got the shits
Then come the sweats, the shivvers, the anxiety
And youve locked yourself away from the rest of society
Your only twenty-four hours in but it feels like a week
Back to the toilet, your now on a streak
Cos now its coming out like a river from the upper end
While sweating that shit out of your system, your now on the mend
Starting to feel a bit better after around three days
And if you've lasted that long you deserve a little praise
But at the end of the day, you got yourself into this mess
but now you know you have to see the end of this process
Your body's that tired and you need to get sleep
But it's not happening yet and your starting to weep
The kicks and the sweats at least a little start to subside
And you realise that you can come out the otherside
After seventy-two hours that shit is out of your system
But it's sleep that you need and what you would do for some Vallium
But you catch the odd hour as your body recovers
And you all know what im talking about brothers
Getting opiates out of your system is no easy task
This would be validated by any addict you ask
But if your determined to turn your life around
Then good luck brother on fighting that hellhound

Scars

Scars are caused by a deep cut or burn
Scars are a sign that something hurt
scars hold a dark memory
blood triceling down
The sound of a sizzle from a fresh burn
Soon enough the scars add up
A collection, if you will gathers
Of pain and suffering
sometimes you forget the hard part
The occurrence of the event
And you put yourself out there again
with hopes
Things will be different
Risk it
And you get hurt again,  and again
forgetting your past
So many times you get cut and hurt
The people dear to you go away
you feel so broken...
not sure why
Well...
Sometimes the scar is the only proof that the pain was real
When people leave and go away
at least you can look at the scars
And know what you've been through

mjs211 said:To be clear: are we writing about something that's scared us, or about something that's scarred us?

I would like to enquire about the same thing, not sure it is perfectly clear?

“Skin Left”
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I wear my mistakes
on my face and in other places,
some are like military badges,
earned from broken love,
barroom brawls incited by ethanol,
home construction and my pets.
When seen, my chest puffs out to
compete with the others unseen,
like submarines,
they run silent,
they run deep,
visual re-mind-ers that
keep me together.
I would like to
think I’m the more wiser, but
I continue to get them, and
there is only so much skin left.

My Demons Cry



Flightless for so long
clipped wings of my own doing
plucked out my feathers to give me pain
Scars leave a story in Braille
Cryptic in unknown text
symbols that only I can translate





My demons cry for release
from the prison that I lock them in
they shake the foundations of my soul
At times
I just choke them back with each gulp
until they are silenced and still





I shall choose with each breath
that forges the direction of my
forward motion in loose fitting shoes
Transition like a chrysalis waiting
enveloped in pain as butterflies cry
rainbow rivers that crystallize on stone





Vervain in drifts catches my senses
I follow its stroke as it entices me
Distraction can take your feet unknowingly
to a place you did not want to end up
to backward and thoughtless choices
And my demons cry for release
as they shake the foundations of my soul