|
Details |
Dakota Hornak Poem
How do I stop the world from spinning? Because I was really never very good at keeping my balance.
How do I ask my world to stop falling apart at the seams? Because I was never very quick with a needle and thread.
How do I tell the people around me how my newest love affair is actually between my fingernails and my forearm? Because I was never very open about my new relationships.
How do I see a future for myself through this fog? Because I was never very understanding of the idea of looking on the bright side when the sun wasn't visible.
How do I continue on a journey that, trust me, I want to finish but don't have the heart for anymore? Because as I get weaker, the world spins more, my world is ripping to shreds, I can never control the passion between my hands and my wrists, and the sun isn't coming out for a long, long time.
So, I'm asking you for help, because I want to finish but there are just too many "how's" in my way.
Copyright © Dakota Hornak | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Dakota Hornak Poem
She was 4.
She never knew what made love different then what her parents had.
She thought love was what made depression spread through their veins like wildfire.
She thought love was what was laying above her pillow as she tried to drown out the screaming matches.
She was 8.
She never knew what to call the tremble in her hands or the quiver in her throat.
She thought to call it Ruby because it painted her a shade of blushing red every time she had to speak.
She thought that every one defined silence as terrifying, people as fears, and living as anxiety.
She was 14.
She never knew that her balancing act had a name.
She thought that her stomach being tied down the center with a tight rope was just simply her.
She thought that all of the fear and hate and insecurity could never be called something so technical as depression.
She was 16.
She never thought she would ever get better, but instead begin to slip away.
She thought that despite the medications and the countless tears her world was just meant to be a blaze with crippling abnormality.
She thought that depression wasn’t worth fighting through when it was her name at stake.
She made her world a book of definitions.
Silence- (n) terrifying sign that worlds will begin to crash around me
People- (n) fears wrapped up in layers of things that they are not but wish to be
Life- (n) an earthquake in your chilled bones and a chain on your gentle voice
Love- (n) without it, life will be a natural disaster, people will forever be walking insecurities, and silence will be terrifying
She plastered these words inside her mind like wallpaper,
leaving her numb in the silence of fearing that people will not love a person with such twisted definitions on what she sees around her.
So amidst the blazing wildfires of depression and shaking worlds of anxiety she lived quietly in a silence that forever left her eyes screaming, but she continued on waiting for someone to choose to
love her.
Copyright © Dakota Hornak | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Dakota Hornak Poem
They say if you break it, you bought it, but I’m not yours to own.
You snapped me like a pencil between your fingers in a burst of insecurities, but that was never part of the deal.
Once in science class, we learned that the longer a bond was the easier it was to break, and boy, was my bond to you long.
Miles couldn’t have described it. Through days, weeks, months, and millions of minutes spent on you, you owned me.
I knew that when you picked me up from the bookcases and antiques, I was yours. And soon after, the floor felt familiar to my glass cheeks.
As I shattered, you swept me up and threw me into a box as a prize of your manhood and left me on a shelf made of worn women and broken bits.
Dust collected, made of layered guilt and oppressing despair, and we became cozy in our box of fragile fears.
You left us high from the world as if saving us for later. I remembered how it felt to look at you again with my eyes, still glassy. I never loved feeling used like that before.
Soon, you tied leashes out of price tags and threw them around our necks. We couldn’t even jump off of the edge of the place that was our home now, because you left us tied to all the memories I wished to forget.
The strings got tighter, we got more tired of this game, and soon we froze in our boxes made of abandonment issues and paranoia. We never healed quite right.
We became at peace with being just prizes for all the times your masculinity beat out your human decency and we stacked ourselves like polaroid pictures to make room for your next shattered china doll.
And forever we stayed chained to our first love, price tags as nooses, frozen in the realization that no real love would ever find us on the island of misused toys.
Copyright © Dakota Hornak | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Dakota Hornak Poem
To look back now,?to the times when I was young,?there were so many unknowns?that the girl I was ?didn’t realize existed.?I did not know?if I could ever trust a man to care.?I did not know?if I could ever be half the woman she is.?I did not know ?if I could even make it far enough to question what wasn’t promised. ?A seven year old me,?pink streaks in her hair?and a smile,?a real one,?on her face did not yet know how the world would ?funnel into her ears one day,?trying to tell her everything?she already assumed was true.?She didn’t understand?how people ever left other people?or how sadness was an actual disorder.?She thought a smile was a cure.?I did not know ?that a father was supposed to do more then leave healing wounds?and set a dinner table.?I did not know?that love is fifty/fifty only when the other is involved?and willing to say he cared.?I did not know?what it meant to feel no hunger for anything other then a bed sheet?and voices other people could hear.?Because a seven year old me?blocked out the slaps?and believed it?when she said she was crying because?her back hurt.?I didn’t know?that some days I was worth nothing more then the price?of a punching bag?or?that feeling so alone in a room full of people?can make anyone crack.?And it wasn’t until?the only man I’ve ever come to trust ?held me after I saw a girl almost get assaulted?in my house, on my own couch, on my own lap?that I knew not all men were evil.?And it wasn’t until?she told me about the sadness in our veins?being a battle I’d never get to escape easily ?that I realized I’m as strong as she made herself.?And it wasn’t until ?the winter of no lunch and ?spring of bad habits and ?summer of broken hearts?that I came to terms with the place I was trying to get to.?I have a boy who’s like a brother.?One who built a place for me to ?watch the world before joining it.?I have a mother who lived to tell a tale.?One who now discusses with me?the poet that saved my life?and the lyric that started an epiphany.?I have a disorder that some people don’t survive.?One that, some nights, is so strong,?it escapes through fingertips or ?words of mouth or ?limbs I once dangled from the edge of the world.?I have unknowns.?So many that I did not realize needed answering.?A seven year old me once saw the world?as a place for only her,?but now,?I’m just trying to find a place to stand.
Copyright © Dakota Hornak | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Dakota Hornak Poem
Don’t look at me as a mental disorder. Yes, I have one. Yes, it is my life. But no, it isn’t who I am.
Someones mental disorder doesn’t define them. It affects how they live their life but it doesn’t affect the person they are.
Someone with depression could be the sweetest and most entusiastic person in the world. Someone with anxiety could be the person who pushes you to do the extreme and interesting.
Don’t judge a person by what they deal with, judge a person by how they let it define them.
We are not our disorders, we are just affected by them. Please remember that.
Copyright © Dakota Hornak | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Dakota Hornak Poem
When did teaching a woman how to cover her shoulders and legs and teaching a man that their personal attractions control us, become part of the curriculum?
When did teaching a woman how to protect herself in an attack and teaching a man how to commit an attack, become part of the curriculum?
When did teaching a woman that our bodies are weaker then men’s so we must protect ourselves and teaching a man that their minds are inferior so rape is okay, become part of the curriculum?
When did a woman’s virginity become something that’s embarrassing to hold on to?
When did a woman’s virginity become a prize when her first time was not consented?
When did a woman’s virginity become something she is both terrified to lose and mortified to keep?
When did the world become a place where we teach men that they can control women, teach men that rape is okay, teach men that they are stronger?
When did the world become a place where half of our population lives in fear and the other half is power hungry?
When did the world become a place where half of us must hide who we are and the other half shoves who they are down our throats?
When did the world become a place like this?
Copyright © Dakota Hornak | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Dakota Hornak Poem
We aren’t broken because
we are lazy
or looking for an excuse
to stop working.
We aren’t hopeless because
we are selfish
or looking for ways of being
the center of attention.
We don’t want to die because
we have a test on Monday
or because we are giving up.
We are broken because
our minds are melting
and we hate feeling like shards of glass.
We are hopeless because
no one ever tells us
that these feeling are okay to have
or are normal.
We want to die because
we see other people handling
their lives and we
are still drowning in our own
doubt.
We aren’t shallow,
or weak,
or selfish,
or cowards.
We are selfless,
and strong,
and caring,
and so god damn done
with feeling like the world has escaped us.
So I’m sorry if it seems like I’m
giving up,
but in reality
I’m trying to live one day at a time.
We aren’t what you think.
We are what you fear feeling.
So please see me as a person
and not a headcase,
or as a freak,
or as a disorder,
because if you felt like us,
I doubt you’d make it through.
Copyright © Dakota Hornak | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Dakota Hornak Poem
The world was once too bright for me.
My eyes would refrain from the colors and the light.
So I took a paintbrush, and painted down the wings,
of a creature so beautiful it was only in my dreams.
I made enough to dim the world outside of my mind.
My head was now just spinning like a kaleidoscope,
of the creatures I’ve only dreamed,
and I decided to name them butterflies
They fly with hope, they fly care, like a star in the darkest part of midnight,
and they left a trail color, too beautiful and bright.
Copyright © Dakota Hornak | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Dakota Hornak Poem
Dear world,?I know you are not out to get me,?but,?there’s something that can’t translate?from your eyes to mine.?I know you did not dangle me?from the edge of yourself,?but,?there’s something about the way a season?burned me so badly and made me miss all the rest?that makes it seem?like sabotage.?I know that you revolve around your own life source,?not myself and all the problems that grow from me,?but,?in the end ?your my constant.?I know other people live ?among my own naive head,?but,?you make us scared to search for each other.?Again,?you aren’t the villain here,?merely an heir of brutal truth, ?but,?don’t you have a say in this??Can’t you understand the difference between ?dulling and bright??My eyes are still healing. ?I cannot help but ?see the ‘evil’ in the word 'live’.?I cannot help but?see a motive in a kind gesture.?I cannot help but?stop trusting what you bring to me.?I know you are not out to get me,?but,?there’s something that can’t translate?from your eyes to mine. ?It has taken years to learn what?good can come from you,?like a wave from raging ocean water.?It has taken years to learn what?safe spaces you have grown for me,?like mossy trees in airy forests that I once dreamed of finding.?It has taken years to learn what?you do to stop me from hurting,?like throwing caution signs around the necks of past people.?The black is gaining back?a sense of color,?and the sun is back to glowing.?I know you weren’t out to get me,?but,?there was something that couldn’t translate?from your eyes to mine.?You weren’t the villain,?merely a protector with too many vulnerable places?to shield.?You didn’t mean to hurt me,?you meant to make me stronger,?and I’m sorry that I it all came out blurry.?You did not dangle me from your edges,?you tried to get me to fly.?You were not ignoring my need for a light source,?you tried to show me a new one.?You don’t try to scare me with new people who are dulling,?you tried to paint the picture?that we all don’t look the same.?Dear world,?I’m sorry I ever thought that you were out to get me.
Copyright © Dakota Hornak | Year Posted 2017
|
Details |
Dakota Hornak Poem
I remember how I used to stand on my toes just to kiss you.
I remember how I used to tap your hand until it welcomed mine.
I remember how I used to laugh every time you looked at me and the smile spread across my face.
I remember how they warned me, and I just brushed it aside.
I remember how you embraced me that night as tears streamed down my face and promised you’d never hurt me, never leave me.
But sadly I remember how you said we’d always be friends, but it just didn’t work out.
Sadly I remember how all I got were icy stares and a chuckle here or there.
Sadly I remember how you stopped caring.
Sadly I remember how my wrists screamed with pain as my heart told me to cut but my mind told me not to.
Sadly I remember how my hands would shake and my voice would quiver as my anxiety worsened.
Then I remember how you came back, said you were sorry, said you still cared.
I hate how I remember how I trusted you again.
I hate how I remember that we once way more then just friends.
I hate how I remember all of the words that made me smile after you began to fix my heart.
I hate how I remember that she seemed like the better choice.
I hate how I remember the day you left me again, even though you promised that you wouldn’t.
And now I sit here remembering everything we had. I don’t know if you ever cared, I don’t know if you ever listened. Since that night you broke my heart again my wrists just want a blade, my eyes just want to close and never open again, and my mind just wants to shut down.
I remember how I used trust you, care for you, love you, and get broken by you.
I remember why I’m like this now.
You broke me but you never lost me. That’s what I regret the most.
But I remember how I want to thank you everyday because even though I feel this pain, one day I’ll face more pain and I’ll still be numb from tonight.
Copyright © Dakota Hornak | Year Posted 2016
|
|