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Amy Mack Poem
Trapped in this body, I know it’s not mine.
Everyday, my fake grin on the surface seems to shine.
Ready to scream, to tell the world my pain.
They don’t realise how you left, abandoned me for her, in the rain.
Lost are the simulacrums of friendship, and true love.
Lying, leading on, and cheating, you are not above.
Taken back to that day, avoiding contact with your eyes.
Driven to self-maim, from being rejected for the girl I so despise.
Crimson running down my forearm, dripping off the knife as I grieve.
Love is a lie, an illusion, aspired towards by the naive.
Toying with my mind, was it merely a game?
Sparking hatred against me and taking none of the blame.
You did this to me, you left me alone.
Choosing her instead, all along I should have known.
“You were never just a replacement… Maybe I made a mistake”.
You seem to speak with such bland truth, but it’s only for my sake.
You try to apologise now, “It’s not the ways things should have went..”
I see straight through your cursed lies, it was always your intent.
Cuts are no longer satisfactory. I take the pills quickly, lying down in my bed.
Maybe once you’d choose me for something, but you can’t now that I’m dead...
Copyright © Amy Mack | Year Posted 2016
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Details |
Amy Mack Poem
Memories of old times haunt me. The dark, the fear, the hurt.
Even with friends to guide me, my qualities will revert.
Past taking hold of me once more,
aching of wounds inflicted, a never-closing sore.
Intoxicated rage, you’d wound me in your stride.
Early morning, with concealer, your beatings I would hide.
I crave the past despite its horrors, the always-coming pain. For then I’d cover bruises, now gashes, cuts, self-maim.
The gaping hole you’ve left me with, will never quite be closed.
All the time wearing jackets and hoodies, long pants, I can’t leave my scars exposed.
Placing the blade against my arm, drag, cut, watch the blood, repeat.
Until the physical pain blocks the mental, my work won’t be complete.
With one last slice, the final one, vision blurring, I fall to the floor.
Bleeding out, in my last moments I’m at peace. I’m gone before you open the door.
Copyright © Amy Mack | Year Posted 2016
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Details |
Amy Mack Poem
Going insane? Am I losing my mind?
Happiness seems to have been left behind.
Look at us all, why are we so sad?
Acting ‘depressed’ and ‘suicidal’ like it’s some kind of fad.
Is it just a sick joke to you? Find this amusing?
While people are out there, a true battle against melancholia they fight, but they’re losing.
“I don’t feel ****”, people say, “Everything is numb”
Despondency, and depression aren’t cool. What have we become?
Copyright © Amy Mack | Year Posted 2016
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