Rum

I drink and drink the whole bottle of rum.

The voices that want to kill me I numb.

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Lips are Moving

Sometimes it feels like I’m talking.

I swear words are coming out.

But no one seems to hear me.

Maybe I should shout.

 

I’m crying out for help

but everyone looks away.

My feelings don’t matter I guess

So depressed I guess I’ll stay

Control

I like to believe that I am in control.

That I am independent.

I mean I worked my ass off for a degree

by myself.

I saved up for 5 years and bought a car

by myself.

I have a good paying part-time job

by myself.

I’m looking for a big girl career now

by myself.

But yet no matter how what I do

to make myself feel like

an accomplished adult

I will always be trapped.

For I may have a degree,

a car,

a job,

but you will always make sure

that you still control

some small piece of my life

so that I always have to come back

to this horrid place.

You will always keep me dependent

so that I can never escape,

even though this atmosphere is toxic

and is killing me; suffacting me

making my accomplishments

as worthless as myself.

Go Out Walking

Every day I  go out walking

miles and miles of trails that wind

hoping, and praying,

to leave myself behind.

I’m looking for a new me,

one I can face in the mirror

because now all I can see

is someone far inferior.

Sometimes I think it’s working;

that all the struggles are worth it.

I  do everything correctly,

but nothing has changed a bit.

No matter how hard I work,

no matter how hard I strive

I’m greeted by the same person

at the end when I arrive.