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Harley Bixler Poem
I can't help but wonder, what am I supposed to wonder about?
Society has put certain rules into play, that I can seem to wrap my mind around.
To think a certain way, to speak a certain way.
And to do this with no question about why we are being controlled every single day.
So, what does the world want me to do now?
How am I supposed to wonder, if I don't know how?
When does the mind control end?
When will the people of this world get too unhinged?
Everyone needs help, but they are unaware that their thoughts are not individual.
Because society makes the mind control seem normal.
All people think the same. Fighting back is useless.
For how are we supposed to fight back if we are clueless?
Thus, the people need to know,
To beat evil, we need to grow.
Unite our minds, together we flourish.
To take down our commanders, means our minds will perish.
This is why the world has to resort to violence...
To bring our minds back to silence.
Copyright © Harley Bixler | Year Posted 2020
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Harley Bixler Poem
I mark the days I failed to starve up on my wrist in tallies.
It's gotten to the point where I have almost ran out of room to count the times I’ve inflicted pain to punish myself for being human.
When I get hungry, I remind myself of the blood on my scissors I use to harm myself. I do this to stop my temptation, and to help me lose appetite.
But at this point, even my own blood makes me crave chocolate syrup.
I have forgotten what it feels like to not shake. The feeling of being still enough to be able to write my own name. To be able to cut in a straight line.
The thought of helplessness will forever be embedded in my mind. Like a parasite, it will feed on the little confidence I have left. And leave me, with nothing but remorse of every single calorie that I ever had.
A constant reminder that I did this to myself.. A forever thought that maybe, I deserve this.
I deserve to suffer.
To faint if I stand up too quickly. And to be so frail, that my knuckles break if I lash out on my pillow. I am so fragile, it is almost relieving to watch how easily I hurt.
It brings me assurance that there is still some humanity left in this dying body.
When I look in the mirror my reflection is almost transparent. I have now succeeded, to scare children.
People are able to see my bones through my skin, just as easily as I am able to see their mouths drop to the ground in fear when I walk by.
It makes everything worth it.
The constant headaches, fainting, cutting. The constant fear of whether or not I wake up.
Of course, I'm kidding.
I would take everything back if I could. I would stop if I could. But, I can't.
Because I can't help but notice that the skinnier I get, the less visible I am. I mean, that's all I've ever wanted.
Was, to stop being that girl that was so big, no one could miss.
And to start being the one that no one notices.
Copyright © Harley Bixler | Year Posted 2020
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Harley Bixler Poem
Society is unaware of the fact that by channeling this virus and fearing the outcome, we are actually fueling the power for it to prevail.
Keeping us prisoner in our own homes, giving the virus the satisfaction of what it wants, we are digging our own grave by simply trying to survive.
The Coronavirus is terrifying people throughout the world, which is just decreasing the chances of defeating this sickness.
As the people run around like dogs searching for the answers to stop this madness, the virus escalates right under their noses.
Because instead of facing the virus head on, people cover their heads in fear.
Thinking that it is the right answer to not expose themselves, but they are taking the wrong precautions...
Copyright © Harley Bixler | Year Posted 2020
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