I made it to part 10 of The Purge Series!!
In case you are new, (Hi btw), this series of poems is about living and dealing with mental illness and overcoming two decades of self-hatred. It came to life when I stopped writing like it was all rainbows and butterflies and started being honest with myself- that idea is what birthed this series. “The Purge”, as in, cleaning out what has been buried inside forever. Hope you like it! 🙂
(For anyone interested, I updated my About Page from a cringe-y 16 year old’s rambling old to a proper adult’s rambling. So check that out as well!)
Spread out your arms
the weight on your chest
is bringing you down
Look up to the sky
asking God why
Beg Him to forgive you
for being written in stone
You never went with the flow
and now you’re a river
making waves in the middle of a silent valley that He called beautiful.
Why couldn’t you grow into flowers?
Why did you have to be a garden of your own:
Home to thorns, and butterflies.
Oh I don’t know why
I can’t escape myself
God knows I’ve tried and I apologise,
I was never supposed to
spread my arms, wide
the weight on my chest is bringing me down
I let go and fly
And God says I’m beautiful
But maybe you are colour blind.
(Disclaimer: Not a traditional poem but I think it’s closer to the spoken word poetry category)
Decade, upon decade; I tell fate
Being loved by strangers catches me off guard,
Surprises me- “Is this what it is supposed to feel like?”
Is it really like they show in the movies?
Sisters, brothers, fathers and mothers
Is home really just people, who know and even care
about which side of the bed you like most.
Oh, I wouldn’t know, so don’t ask me how.
The only home that I have ever felt
lives outside of my house.
Out there, separated; from my blood.
Because on the genetic code map in these cells,
somehow, home was never marked.
I am sorry, dear home, for getting scared so easily
Not knowing where to go when you are not in my sights.
For I am still learning, how to receive all this love
that you so freely give me
As though I am actually as amazing as you say.
I try to hold on to the little amount these walls taught
Here, love was hiding and shutting up.
But then again, you are not like these walls.
You are kinder and you care.
You actually know which side of the seat I like most,
and how I sleep talk or “sleep type” sometimes.
I chuckle, and then sigh as I walk back inside
and these walls are still as cruel as before I met you.
I’m about to whisper to fate:
“Please make this stop, before I forget how to give love too.”
But I don’t, I can’t.
Cause you’re looking right at me
Smiling across the room.
And we both know, we finally understand
this is what home feels like.
Miracles are not always loud and close.
Not always mountains that crumble to the ground
or ships that sail with high winds against them.
No, no, no.
In all actuality, miracles are often found
sipping coffee in the background
as you scream and fight with your fate.
They are waiting for you to stop for a moment and look around.
And many a times, they come to you
but you are too large-eyed to look at something that seems so small.
Your belittling drives them away.
But friend, if only you knew how many miracles touched you
on just how many rainy days;
you would not have been feeling so alone.
There just was no way.
Somewhat poetic, somewhat random. Mostly just fragments from a coffee-driven brain. ^-^ Hope you liked it!