Of Soul

By mSg

I began to write as a fifteen-year-old girl who had just lost her first love to cancer. Anger, grief, and thoughts of self-mutilation fill the first few chapters of this collection. My eyes began to open to the world as I grew older and, through suffering from schizoaffective disorder, I was able to find illumination through poetry.

This book takes the reader on a voyage from the raw, gritty pain of adolescence and loss through the transition to knowledge, wisdom, and love, as one writes oneself into adulthood.

mSg

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781646546602

Book preview

Burning

This nonsense

in my head

gives me confidence…

not yet dead.

This love in my heart,

like from below,

rips me apart.

Again empty inside,

so cold,

trapped in this cage of age.

Born not right in time.

Torn—my heart and mind.

Pain as though never before;

This love—not what I was searching for.

Cannot hide,

cannot comprehend these

feelings inside.

I look at your eyes,

I am free.

Then a kiss stares at me.

Like a fire burning inside,

these feelings will hide.

Always Alone

Always alone,

there’s no one around.

I try to scream,

but there is no sound.

Always bothered,

you cannot let me be.

High prices to pay,

nothing is free.

Always sad,

always cry.

This pain inside

needs to fucking die.

Always longing

you—too old.

One grey sheet;

so fucking cold.

Always in pain,

from nothing at all.

Cannot run away,

stuck behind a wall.

Always cold,

want you here.

This one thin sheet,

I pull it near.

Always hurting,

you take pain away.

Nothing is more precious

than seeing you each day.

Always so close,

yet it seems so far.

Never fade—

these fucking scars.

Always cold and alone

under this thin grey sheet.

Would now be warm

if you’d be under it with me.

Combination

This combination of pain

distorts my brain.

I cut my veins,

I’m going insane.

This shit in my head:

I want to be dead.

All alone in my bed,

think of color red—

my blood,

your hair,

a stoplight—

alone tonight.

Cannot fight

these feelings for you.

A candle,

the flame.

I stare,

it brings pain.

I look in the fire

and see your eyes,

bright with the light.

Want you in my sight.

Want you with me tonight.

Dead Soul

Ripping at my heart,

laughing at my goal.

Stabbing in my back,

killing my soul.

Tearing my skin,

cutting my veins,

breaking my bones,

causing more pain.

Kneeling on knees,

pleading for life.

You—

pointing at me,

pulling a knife.

Planning my life,

wishing for death,

killing my soul,

taking last breath.

Hurting inside.

Pretense—happy,

staring from behind,

laughing at me.

Fighting with hate,

kissing with love.

Wondering—

anything above?

Crying in misery,

lying alone.

Feeling unloved,

even at home.

Living in pain,

fulfilling your goal.

The only problem:

it’s killing my soul.

Black World

A small black world

filled with anger and hate.

I’m so fucked up,

and this is my fate,

all it consists of

is pain and sorrow.

I sit and wonder,

what will come of tomorrow?

A skinny frail body

covered in scars,

stuck in this world,

trapped behind bars.

Can’t do what I want.

Can’t have who I need.

Can’t hate anyone.

Can’t love whom I please.

I came out wrong,

not how you wanted.

I’m sorry, but

I did not plan it.

A small black world

filled with fear.

It is not in my head,

and it causes these tears.

Just Say No

My Confession

"You are the bent spoon

of a broken promise.

You are the one who

can’t forget

but doesn’t remember."

—Sapphire

The spoon can be bent

back to normal,

but your promise

can’t be fixed.

Now I am the one who

cannot forget

but does not want to remember.

No matter how carefully

you plan tomorrow,

you may wake up

and not be able to walk.

Life is what happens today;

tomorrow is another life.

Drops of blood from my veins

remind me of you,

and it’s so ugly

that it’s beautiful.

My heart leaks

as the silence of blind rooms

awakens me.

Depression does something to me

or the way I see myself.

Like wet fire

and dark light,

I feel like a contradiction.

Maybe

in tomorrows life

I’ll be rid of my addiction

to you.

My Downfall

Feeling alive

on these drugs that I take.

Feeling dead

every time I wake.

I think about the past,

the present, not the future.

Then I know it won’t last,

so here’s the resin,

too much pressure.

Feeling better,

really hurting more.

The times I tried to die…

Who knows the score?

Not my time to die,

and I won’t ask for help.

I’ll just keep taking these drugs

and keep hurting myself.

Fake Life

Yesterday I wanted to die,

but the feeling was gone

once I got high.

Today I feel as I’m blind.

All I seem to see

is thirteen white lines.

As it shoots up my nose

and drips down my throat,

no longer reality,

now I can float.

Like a gun

pointed at my eye.

This peaceful oblivion—

it’s only a lie.

Don’t tell me to stop,

’cuz I fuckin’ try,

but to me

life is what happens

when I am high.

Another Confession

Dented lockers,

broken hands.

I pull on the strands

of my hair.

It’s not fair.

Masochistic from birth,

but really,

from life.

Loving the feel

of a sharpened knife.

My broken heart hurts,

yet it feels good

breaking my skin

and watching the blood.

My two favorite things:

drugs and pain.

My two definitions:

weak and insane.

If you make me hurt,

I’ll make it hurt more.

From my head to my body

and the scars are still sore.

In life, people walk and they smile,

but I just keep crawling,

like a fucking child.

How long will this last?

I don’t really know,

but I think all this pain

is making me grow.

Psych Ward

You let me out

of my cage

for an hour.

Now I am back here

for the night.

You treat us all like shit,

how can you expect us

not to fight?

Until tomorrow I’ll sit here,

until tomorrow I’ll cry,

but now everything is clear:

I really want to die.

Despite what you think,

you didn’t correct me.

Despite what you’d hoped,

you couldn’t protect me.

He said,

"Nothing in this life

that I’ve been trying

can equal or surpass

the art of dying."

I say,

all the things

that I have ever tried

are the reasons why I sat alone

and cried.

These cuts on me

are not for you

to see.

Eight days of hell,

tomorrow

I’ll be free.

Fighting for Silence

Fighting for silence

as your head screams

at you

and you don’t know

why

you try anymore

’cuz no one will open the door

For a happy life,

For a better way.

Any

day now

I’ll figure out how

to go on,

how to make myself strong.

Still I don’t understand

why you all lend your hands.

Why would you help me?

Why do you care

about a rotting heart?

My soul drifts apart.

No longer a whole, just pieces—

pieces of me.

When you bury those pieces,

that day I’ll be free.

So for now I am

trapped

in a body—

a cage.

We should all come with a sticker…

WARNING: GETS SADDER WITH AGE!

Pain Remembers

Pain remembers,

but days forget

all of the tears

and the regret.

At times I’ve tried

to put this aside.

Other times,

I have cried,