Chained inside the confines of the mind,

Tearing to get out,
Find an escape,

My little comforts keep my going,
Chained up within my mind,

There is little comfort to be found,
Through the harsh metal,
Cold fingers, grasping and clinging round me,
Tightening the more I struggle,
Choking me, the more I try to escape.

Images flash,
People leaving,
Hurtful words said,
Blame attributed to me.
Hurtful words stinging like a hot iron,
Applied directly to the core of my mind.

These chains also hold me,
Keep me from falling,
Keep me going,
Against my will,
But is my entirety,
Is my existence

Is my being and my living.

These chains, confine and continue me.

Notes from a damned soul

Songs remind me of you, waiting till midnight for your potential call, knowing it won’t come tonight as you’re busy with him. But I wait up anyway. In vain.

You keep wanting me to come hang out, do you see it kills me every time? Do you care? Or are you merely using me?

Clawing me back, even as I need to escape. It’s my fault, I could always avoid you, but never do.

How can you not know it kills me.

You saw what it did to me before, the scars, only the ones that show. What is inside is worse. That night you said hurtful things, tore me apart, from the very core, the accusations and faulting of every aspect of mine I hold dear.

You even mentioned knowing how we had to stop talking and understood why. Clearly not, it kills me inside now as before.

How can you not see?

How can you continue my torture.

You continue my torture.

Yet I keep walking into it willingly.

It’s my fault but that doesn’t change the fact it kills me and you watch. You help me do it. Encourage me towards my end to come. My looking forward to nothing but the end, an escape from the pain, from my reality.

How can you do this?


You saw what it did to me.

Honestly, I regret we started talking again. Some of these times recently have been the best, but also the worst. That’s the hardest thing, saying goodbye to escape from the pain, from the darkness, from my torture. Is also saying goodbye to all the good times, in truth, the lies and disillusionment. But nevertheless they make things I am doing in life feel like they are worth something, mean something, give me enthusiasm for more.

I need to break out.

Need to make a change.

Need to escape you,

Escape my torture one way or another.

But I am left with one question I can’t answer.

Why do you encourage my pain, my torture?

Bringing up the guy, other guys, “hot” guys on tinder. I don’t want you to lie, but at least be truthful, and let me go as I need to.

Let me go as I need to.


Feeling thrownaway,

All gone,

All hurt,

Left alone,

All gone.

In the summer’s sun but nothing warms me,

Around people but always alone,

In the quiet but always the storm raging inside my mind.


Always thrown away 

Always going back for more,



When will I find the peace,

The silence.

That feeling of being empty,

That feeling of being thrownaway.

Always lurking,

Always lingering.

Always there,

Despite my best efforts to control it.

All for nothing.

All out of energy.



Empty words

Your words. Empty words.

Leaving one cold, confused, alone.

The scars your words have left.

Unhealing scars,

A permanent reminder of the pain of being hurt.

Hurt to the core.
These will be overcome, even as the scars leave an indelible mark.

A reminder of the pain.
Your words have left their mark.

Left their scars,

Left their pain.

Your empty words.