I inhale the smoke because I feel lonely/
Im wanting to sleep with random bodies/
Because I want someone to hold me./
I stay in contact with people, because I'm scared of someone ignoring me/
I have abandonment issues and I feel lonely/

I drink that bottle whole, because I feel anger./
I'm a sinking ship, and my anger is the anchor.
I'm holding onto life like some type of cliffhanger,
I'm always questioning myself, where do I find an answer?

I write my poetry because I feel depressed.
I write it in a way that rhymes, I label myself an orderly mess.
I stay up until 2am with a pen and paper so I can rest/
But it leads to an anxiety attack, and now my breathing is compressed.
Being too aware of my emotions has me seriously depressed.

Then they have the nerve to ask me to stop writing
My biggest nightmare is just that and it’s terrifying.
Like this life isn't what I'm fighting, and inside I don't feel like I'm dying.
They tell me that I need therapy and that I should seek some help.
All I wanted was your support, but you turned the other way, oh well.

So if explaining my emotions out on a piece of paper embarrassed you,
You should get up and leave the room.
I’m a woman that feels a little too much of everything, and I will never apologize for it.
If you cant accept me and my hurricanes, you better make a run for it.

I’m a woman who is too involved in things, I’m a woman that has a lot of strings.
And yes, everything is attached, I wont deny that fact.
So I make this statement, and I make it loud and clear.

Let people express themselves, and stop trying to quiet their light to suit your selfish ass needs.
This is my garden, and words are my roots.
Stop trying to weed me.

© poetic_senses