To My Hurting Mind
You
lurk in the shadows of alleyways; the seats at bus stops; the books on classroom
shelves; and the walls of my home.
You
turn my mouth dry; speed up my heartbeat; make my hands and legs tremble; hurl
the vomit over the floor; and leak the diarrhoea out into the toilet.
You
doubt my abilities by turning my stories and poems into jumbled words; laugh at
my lisp when I speak out loud; and make the car collide into the kerb when I
learn to drive.
You
force me to hide beneath the bedsheets; guilt me by saying the food I love to
eat is rotten; the novels I enjoy to read are boring; that I am wasting every
day by doing nothing; and that I do not deserve to be supported.
You
trick me to think I am hated; that strangers want to hurt me; my friends want
to leave me; that my family is ashamed of me; that I am a retard; that I should
do everyone a favour and end it all.
You
are my anxiety; my depression; my fear; my stress; my self-loathing; my guilt;
but you will never win.
My
hurting mind, I will harness you to write stories that will last forever; I will
speak poems that will dance across the page; I will meet new friends and hold
onto the ones I have; my family will always be proud; and I will do everyone a
favour and live.
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| I will do everyone a favour and live...Copyright © 2017- Jake Borrett. All rights reserved. |
