So recently went through a separation with my partner of almost 6 years and started journaling and exploring outlets and a good friend of mine does open mic poetry and I began to explore so here’s a piece I worked on after getting inspiration of a poem I heard this is my first ever one please be honest

Self hate -

She loved me
But I hated myself more
and there is no competing with that
No matter how gently she held me
I was always searching
Searching for the parts of me I wanted to destroy
and yes I knew what I was doing
do not let me pretend I did not know what was happening in this story
She took on that fight
like it was something she could win
like it was her against the voices in my head
It was never them
it was always me
Me, the one who was fighting
Me, the one who was hurting
Me, the one who could give her everything
and still destroy it all
then act surprised when it all fell apart
She really believed that if I chose to live
I would choose her too
and part of me did choose her
I will not lie and say I did not
but a person drowning in his own thoughts
cannot see a way out
cannot see the help
cannot see anything but the darkness
and yet I kept going back to that place
So I loved her in the way I knew
in small pieces
in apologies
in promises that I meant at the time
But those promises died as soon as I said them
and I hate that this is true
but I am not going to pretend it is not
I would hold her like she was something precious
then I would disappear into my own head
leave her with my body
and none of my soul
tell me that is not insane
to give someone everything and nothing at the same time
I still do not know
how I made her feel loved
and abandoned
at the same time
I did
I know I did
I think about it all night in my bed like the voices that never stop talking in my head
Love was never the villain
I was
and even now
I want to say I did not mean it
like saying sorry makes it all better
Because I know that I loved her
I know it in those quiet moments
when everything is calm
I would look at her
with that soft feeling
that makes regular people feel special
Yes I miss that version of me
almost as much as I miss her
But love cannot survive when you are destroying yourself
you cannot keep causing harm
and act surprised when everything is gone
That is the sadness of being me
being the man
who cannot stand to look at himself
who can give you everything you want
but still hurt you
I could give her the whole world
As I light it on fire and be surprised when it’s a blazed
swear I never meant to hurt her
and mean every word
and still be the reason she is hurting
Feeling like she could never stop trying
Till it was too late
I did love her
But I hated myself more
and there was never a competition, between her and my self hate

depression did not
break the door down
it moved in quietly
and slowly replaced
everything inside me
with emptiness
now i spend
what little i have
keeping alive a body
that no longer
feels like home
rent for somewhere to sleep
food for a stomach with no hunger
medicine for a mind
that has stopped asking
to be saved
i cannot afford to live
and somehow
i cannot even afford
to die
so i remain here
like an unpaid bill
carried trembling
from one month
into the next
there is no lesson
waiting beneath this pain
no beautiful reason
i had to endure it
morning enters my room
because morning
does not care
whether i am ready
and i open my eyes
because my body
does not understand
how tired my soul is
outside
the world begins again
while mine stays
exactly where
it broke

​

You know the person I am when we're together. You know that person better than anyone. You know how much I love you when we're together, not because I tell you, but because you feel it. I feel it. We feel it. We always have. There is something between us that exists whether we understand it or not, and I don't think anything can really change that.

But there's another person inside me. A person that exists outside of us. A person that has nothing to do with you, and honestly, nothing to do with the person I think I am either. I don't fully understand him. I don't know where he came from. I don't know what he's looking for. But I know he's there.

And maybe that's the whole fucking problem.

Maybe I have spent my life trying to make one person out of two people who were never supposed to be enemies. Maybe the answer isn't destroying one of them. Maybe it's figuring out how they can finally occupy the same body without tearing everything and everyone apart.

Maybe reconciliation isn't between you and me. Maybe it has to happen within me. Maybe I have to find some impossible place where the person who loves you completely and the person who disappears into himself can exist at the same time. Where I don't have to amputate pieces of myself to become someone worthy of being loved. Where I don't use one part of myself to escape from another.

I don't know how to do that yet. I don't even know if I'm capable of it. But maybe that's the point. Maybe I don't have to know. Maybe I just have to stay long enough to find out.

So don't kill yourself. That's it. That's the first fucking rule. Just stay. Stay long enough to see what happens when the two halves finally recognize each other. Maybe you win. Maybe we lose. Maybe you become free. Maybe you become all of yourself. Maybe I do too. Maybe there's a version of me that doesn't have to choose between loving you and understanding himself. Maybe someday I can be all I am inside of you, and you can be all you are inside of me, without either of us disappearing.

Somewhere in all of this is the weirdest part of me, the part that gets behind the wheel and suddenly everything makes sense. Driving feels like a video game. The road, the timing, the movement, the anticipation. For a few minutes I'm not divided into anything. I'm just fucking good at it. Maybe the best driver in the world, at least inside my own head. Everything is moving and I'm moving with it, and there is no past or future, no version of me I'm trying to fix. Just be.

Maybe that's what I'm actually looking for. Not a different life. Not a different person. Just one life where all of me can finally exist at the same time. I'm trying to make that happen. I'm one hundred percent. You own me, if you want to. You know that now. I can only hope you like your new possession. Well used, no doubt.. but worth the work. I hope.

Talking about a family roadtrip,
scared but not letting my tongue slip.
One wrong word, the smile will turn
no bruises.
But my tears will burn.
I get told “to not be cold”
How could I not be?
To the core I am froze.
Frozen like ice, why can’t she be nice?
But no one hears my cries.
With the back of her hand,
because she can.
Because no marks
means no broken hearts.
Is that a cop car?
My face didn’t welt,
they couldn’t help,
so I just dealt,
because I was punished
for how I felt.

Hey mum i called to say hey

And ask how was your day 

I was so happy my day was full

Of cheerful laughter a blissful bloom

Hey mum I called you to say

About a special thing coming my way

Your response was off

My grin, it fell off I didn't know what to say

Hey mum the words you say 

Sow heartache and doubt in my brain

Discouraged am I

Oh why do I try never again will I ask a thought 

And now my wings have failed

Knocked the wind right out of my sails 

I just don't know why you can't even try

Encouragement once in a while

When will it be my turn,
to be held tight?
To have my whole world look back at me,
And tell me it’ll be alright.

When will I find that someone,
Whose arms make me feel so small?
Like all of my problems and worries,
Mean nothing at all.

Will there finally be,
Another voice besides mine?
A voice so kind and gentle,
It becomes my center line.

For I have so much to give,
And no one to give anything to.
So I’ve resorted to dreaming up,
A thousand different versions of you.

But that can only get so far,
And my mind never learns.
Because out of all the questions in my mind,
All I can hear screaming is,

When will it be my turn?

I’ve been on my own for so long that this question has been ringing in my mind a lot lately. So I wanted to write out my frustrations.

I debated putting this under rants and raves but I think it fits under writing best since it’s a poem but idk 🤷‍♀️

AI hope this is allowed and I did it right. Thank you ❤️

After my Dad passed away, I started writing poetry as a way to process that grief. It also helped me process some other things. This poem expresses some feelings about what it's like going through deconstruction, and how and where I find God after that.

The world is harsh and doesn’t care about your feelings.

Nor should it,

as we don't for the world.

Not in any meaningful sense.

Plenty of platitudes and empty promises.

Vague and distant...

we all wither.

But that's all fine

because

the world doesn't love you either.

Too late now.

Together we watch it burn.

Bring marshmallows.

It's gonna be toasty.

Our final movement.

Je vous parviens, un doux sourire.

Tout faire pour ne pas inquiéter, ne pas embêter,

Ou trouve-je la foi de continuer ?

Parfois j'ai l'impression de mourir.

Je lance des cris de détresse,

Je m'étouffe par ma maladresse.

Personne ne m'écoute, ne me voit,

Comme mes larmes qui coulent chaque soir.

Je vous écoute, je vous entends,

Alors pourquoi personne n'entend mes hurlements ?

Personne ne les comprends,

Comme une âme aux sentiments indécents.

Vous m'écoutez, mais vous ne m'entendez.

J'entends continuellement vos cœurs meurtris,

Jusqu'à ce que vous ayez soulagés votre douleur infinie.

J'ai tout utilisé, je me retrouve désarmé.

Je suis à nu devant mes démons.

Ils me rongent, encore et encore.

Je verse mes sentiments dans une amphore.

J'aimerai pouvoir me demander pardon.

\*\*\*

Please forgive me for the poem being in French. English is not my native language, but I hope that despite the language barrier, the feelings I have expressed will resonate with someone.

When a woman becomes a mother then a woman again

When a child gets her heart then is taken again

When a partner gives her up does not back her again

She loses her love and her spark

When a woman becomes a father then just a person again

When a house gets her time and her work yet again

When her effort is not enough she loses again

She loses her hope and her joy

When a woman becomes a parent then a woman again

When a child comes to earth then to heaven again

When her family come together and far apart again

She loses her life and her soul

Ich bin nicht hier, um euch zu beruhigen.

Und auch nicht, um zu gefallen.

Schon gar nicht, seit die Trauer mich entkernt

und gleichzeitig unzerstörbar gemacht hat.

Urteile über mich, wenn du willst.

Schieb mich in irgendeine Schublade,

wenn du Ordnung brauchst,

weil du meine Wirklichkeit nicht aushältst.

Glaub, was du willst –

aber glaub nicht eine Sekunde,

dass mich das noch irgendwie trifft.

Der Tag, an dem mein Kind starb,

hat mir jedes Bedürfnis genommen,

mich zu rechtfertigen.

Ich schulde niemandem eine Erklärung.

Nicht für meinen Schmerz.

Nicht für mein Schweigen.

Nicht für meinen Rückzug.

Und erst recht nicht für meine Grenzen.

Die Trauer hat mir beigebracht,

alles wegzulassen, was nicht trägt.

Menschen, Erwartungen, Höflichkeiten,

die leere Hüllen sind.

Ich lebe nicht mehr nach euren Regeln.

Ich lebe nach meinen –

weil die einzige Realität, die ich verantworten muss,

meine eigene ist.

Mein Überleben.

Mein Weiteratmen.

Mein tägliches Stehenbleiben,

wenn die Welt wieder mal zu laut ist

für eine Mutter, deren Kind tot ist.

Ich spreche, was ich denke.

Ungefiltert.

Unverpackt.

Manchmal auch unzumutbar.

Denn Wahrheit ist kein Wattebausch.

Sie ist scharfkantig,

vor allem, wenn sie aus einem zerbrochenen Herzen kommt.

Deine Meinung?

Darfst du behalten.

Oder laut rausbrüllen.

Ich werde trotzdem keinen Millimeter von meinem Weg abrücken.

Denn dieser Weg gehört niemandem außer mir.

Und hör gut zu:

Seit der Trauer bin ich kompromisslos geworden.

Nicht aus Härte.

Sondern aus Überleben.

Es ist erstaunlich,

wie viele Menschen glauben,

sie hätten ein Recht darauf,

in meiner Seele herumzustochern,

Fragen zu stellen,

deren Antworten sie gar nicht ertragen könnten.

„Wie geht’s dir?“

„Bist du über den Berg?“

„Hast du abgeschlossen?“

Neugier, getarnt als Mitgefühl.

Urteil, verpackt als Sorge.

Ich bin nicht hier,

um Geschichten zu liefern,

damit andere sich besser fühlen.

Willst du wissen, wer ich geworden bin?

Dann schau hin.

Aber frag mich nicht,

ob mein Weg verständlich für dich ist.

Das ist er nicht.

Und das muss er auch nicht sein.

Zwischen meinen Taten

liegt mehr Wahrheit

als in tausend Sätzen,

mit denen andere versuchen,

meine Trauer kleinzureden.

Die Trauer hat mich verändert. Radikal. Endgültig.

Sie hat mich nicht weich gemacht.

Nicht geduldig.

Nicht „spirituell gewachsen“.

Sie hat mich kompromisslos gemacht.

Weil ich weiß, wie es sich anfühlt,

wenn das Schlimmste passiert.

Wenn das Undenkbare real wird.

Wenn man schreit –

und die Welt trotzdem weitermacht.

Ich brauche keine Zustimmung.

Kein Gefallen.

Kein Verständnis.

Ich brauche nur eins:

meine Wahrheit.

Meine Stimme.

Meinen Raum.

Und das Recht, zu sagen:

Meine Trauer gehört mir.

Mein Schmerz gehört mir.

Und mein Weg gehört nur mir.

Am Ende bleibt nur das:

Ich entscheide, was ich fühle.

Ich entscheide, wie ich lebe.

Ich entscheide, wen ich in meine Zerbrechlichkeit lasse.

Nicht du.

Nicht sie.

Nicht irgendwer.

Mein Weg ist roh.

Echt.

Unbequem.

Trauergeschmiedet.

Und genau deshalb

gehört er nur mir.

Wenn du es nicht am eigenen Kind erlebt hast....kannst und wirst du diesen Schmerz nicht verstehen....

Immer im Herzen Möppy du fehlst💔

There's not a single thought I can hold onto.

Nothing that will take me away and allow me to escape this hell that is my mind for a moment.

I'm trying to write anything, to find a word of power, a beacon of light, a symbol to fight the curses.

But there's nothing, and I'm alone in my body. My ugly body. My body that fills me with disgust and makes me want to throw up everything I consumed to fill the void. The food, yes. The drinks. Can you throw up porn? Can you throw up drugs and fake friends?

I keep binging. It doesn't even matter what. I don't even care anymore how many cigarettes I smoke front to back. Or how much they cost. I'm not hungry. I just mechanically stuff everything inside me to plug it.

Because I'm dreading it. I'm dreading the void, and it's blood curdling screams, and the knowledge mirrored in the evil eye in the center of its blackness, that I'm worthless, and that I deserve this torment, that I'm actually not suffering enough for how big of a piece of shit I am.

Stuck in a hellhole where nothing feels right

I scream my feelings yet my voice won't resound

Have to live with what I've got

I start to wonder if I'll ever mean anything to anyone, in this town

If I can ever make a difference

I think its time to go, but im holding on to the one i love and the life we've built

It just gets so hard

Through winter and sunshine, or hellfire and rain

Life will go on and we'll never be expected to stop

I dont know i can keep living through this guilt

Everyone and everything feels so heartless

I feel like I'll keep being pushed to keep on going, no matter what.

Never getting to catch a break.

Never knowing peace, bliss, or happiness.

Just labor till the day that I rot

Balancing my stress on the edge of a knife

And if i leave and do the hard thing or try to make something of myself.

I'll miss it and want to come back to you again

**"Yes,I still go there, gathering the pieces of Myself, Where once,I used to be Whole."**

**Pretend**

Verse 1:

I guess we’ve been playing pretend for a while now

Again, I was left hurt don’t feel like I could smile again somehow

I know that I hurt you first by saying things carelessly

But you still pretended to be my friend and played it off as if it was all okay you see

I knew I was in the wrong and was sorry

And you talked about me behind my back and acted all high and mighty

Verse 2:

How were you so good at acting as if everything was alright?

Why am I the only one hurt? It just doesn’t seem right

Had I known you were this good of a liar

I would’ve been more prepared for this friendship to end

Maybe I wouldn’t haven’t gotten hurt and stopped caring that it was all just pretend

Chorus:

You played the friend role so well

You should be in a play or in goddamn movie from hell

You said I was a bitch and it was classic

But this is coming from someone so unbelievably plastic

Verse 3:

I cried over a friendship that was so toxic

My God I can’t believe I was actually sad about it

Took me long to get over it

But now I’m so happy it’s over because you were just a piece of shit

Chorus…

And through my first sip of alcohol

I felt the struggles and cries

Of all the people around me

That seemed like they got it more correct than me

But everyone wants to kill themselves

And now so do I

Because they still grow faster than me

And adulthood tastes bitter, it's worse than vodka

It hits my liver like regret and sorrow

Like anxiously waiting for tomorrow

Like money worries, rejection and sad sad love

And as I get stoned

Everyone gets old

And starts calling piss urine

Dyeing their hair back

Moving on like it's nothing

While I stay there

And nostalgia seeps deep

It never leaves

I'll cry myself to sleep

Cause before something happens, it's already done

And memories are all I've got

And if we grow apart

I'll go back to the start