What We Become

Well there once was a girl that I knew
She wore black clothes and her hair was blue
Her face was sad and skin pale in hue.
She rarely spoke. Her heart, it broke.
She lost everything.

Her arms had scars and her legs did too
The scars on her heart were black and blue
I had heard, but were the rumors true?
No, they could not be. It's too hard to believe.
How could she live with that memory?

Came home from school and she walked inside
A chill down her spine, and then she spied:
Dead on the floor her mother did lie.
Her brain had died, though she had tried.
She was alone.

Now her dad, he drank and she got hit.
He found pleasure in telling her she's shit.
She turned her music up and she'd sit
Alone in her room. It became her tomb.
She wished she would die, God she did try.

This sad solemn girl befriended me
She led me inside her misery
I fell crushed by waves of sympathy.
The empathy... it ruined me.
The darkness had descended on me.

Inside, I began to feel a shift
A most disconcerting kind of drift
To drugs I turned, just to feel a lift.
Life is just meaningless. Everyone's full of shit.
What is this all for?



*Before I end this post, I feel it is necessary to mention that though the poem's content is 100% from my own mind and soul, it was also inspired by a song I love that was stuck in my head. I took the rhythm of the song and wrote the words to go along with it. Though it does not exactly mimic the songwriter's melodic pattern, it was the inspiration behind the poem. The song is called, "Don't Know When, But A Day Is Gonna Come" by the indie/folk band Bright Eyes. Check it out:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JDjo1oIPAPI

Daily Demons

Early every morning,
the daily demons,
they attack.
Physical, painful,
gut-wrenching.
I have to get these demons
off my back.

They get inside my head,
run around lighting little fires
in my brain.
Fear, hate, insecurity,
anger, jealousy
deep dark depression.
Refrain.

The demons control my blood;
they weaken it, make me pale,
and make me sick.
Dizziness, fainting,
small seizures.
These demons exhaust me.
Anemic.


It was such a heavy price to pay,
to get these demons
off my back.
First, they will take you up so high,
but they never warn you
of how far you will fall when you come down:
a screaming, wailing, clawing back
...a heart attack.


To get out of hell,
I must travel back through;
It's never-ending
the head never stops throbbing
the stomach never stops aching
the eyes never stop closing
the demons always jump back
on my back.