Depths of My Disorder

I wake up

Lost.

In this world I am drenched in

Self-loathing.

I fear I will soon wash away with the rain,

all the thoughts that run through me will die,

I will 

Die.

I am forgotten,

Alone,

Unwanted.

The residue of people's washed hands.

I ask myself if I am

Cursed,

to feel this way

Forever.

or if by some miracle I will see

 A light.

But a darkness seeps into me,

I become more cynical as each day

Ends.

I rest quietly in my dark pit and wonder,

If I am already

Dead.

I grow cold,

Tired.

Constantly screaming inside, 

Yet, I am a mannequin,

Bound to show the same

Placid expression.

On my way into this depressive room,

I forgot to plan my

Exit.

I fear now, the only way out is

Up.

 

Reviews

[emma]

i loved it. alot. the flow was cool, and the format different. unique. a very powerful and intense write, good work.

"In this world I am drenched in
Self-loathing." - that was my favourite line. worded perfectly.

[Andrew Tyler McCown]

love this poem.
the line breaks are very powerful and very enjoyable to read. I like that you have experimented with this poem and built a different format that your other poems.
But I don't like the line about "become more cynical." the word cynical is more of a telling word than a showing word. I love the ending and completely agree with the two other comments

[Timothy Starship]

"The left-overs of people's washed hands."

f*****g brilliant

[Isolophobe]

I really liked the solemn tone of alienation in this. My favorite line was "The left-overs of people's washed hands."

Thats just more powerful than I can even express. The emphasis on the feeling of the poem seems to rest in that line.