Slipping on Ice

Started by Bermuda, February 01, 2024, 08:01:31 PM

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Bermuda

I guess I'll call this poem Slipping on Ice, because woops that went dark quickly.

--

Clutching ice like a crutch to keep me upright and breathing at a supposedly
"normal pace"

sifting burning embers through my fingers that slowly melt away

WASTED WATER

...a smoking gun that I am in the wrong place again.
I need to run but there is no place for me to -brrreathe

My state of mind stated that to me and I tried not to believe-
but I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and that face

deceived me

A distorted image though a broken lens

shattered tears

and this will never end.

THAT FACE IS A WRECK

That isn't even how I sound
Is she here? I've been found.

Found out again.

I need to find a way out.
Plan the steps, every step, be careful, so careful you can't move.
Breathe quietly.

Someone could hear you!

It's not that at all.
I'm imprisoned between these tiled walls

AND THEY ARE DIRTY

I can't even do that right, and now I'm crumpled on the floor because I ran out of ice.

That wasn't my voice.

This is proof that there is no use but if I don't fight myself than I will prove them right.

I. WILL. LOSE.

There is no one to catch me and tell me "Hey, it's alright."
It's never been alright.

I fell for it again and the end is exactly how they said it would end.
Just a nobody, body, who did this to itself.

What a loser.

A lost cause in any case.
What a shame, what a shame. There is no one there blame, so I'll just blame myself.

---

Random words, I swear I'm not in crisis. I'm fine.

NarcKiddo


Kizzie

Tks Bermuda for this look into some of the darkness we experience but often don't talk about because it's scares us to acknowledge it and it scares others to hear about it. It's the darkness of CPTSD, it's real and it's terrible and it's why we so need better treatment and support.