ONE THE INSIDE

Sometimes I wish I knew how to un-fuck myself,

When I say this I am not talking about sex.

Some day’s I am feeling myself,

Then there are those days when I feel nothing.

It’s like being trapped in a place where my thoughts are overbearing,

the weight of the world is nestled on my head,

I have no strength to carry it.

No matter how strong my appearance seem,

All I want to do is pull my hair out and scream.

Nothing makes sense as I clench to what little sanity I have left.

Anxiety holds me captive,

Not as a patriot, but more like a POW.

Between myself and depression a war brews,

I always end up being the casualty.

I come bearing smiles but my body is scarred beyond recognition,

And my soul is like a scared child,

Longing for just a hug or a warm smile.

No one knows the terror I am tormented with,

If they do they still don’t care.

By the things, I do I am classified as being weird.

I kill myself trying to fit in with a crowd that does not need me,

Myself kills me for indulging.

I can’t remember one past time of a happy memory,

Everything reminds me of the cuttings.

Many books decorated with suicide notes.

When I think about it all,

My whole being has always felt like it’s an encampment for little demons;

They are always raging wars.

Still, when I look in the mirror I see true beauty,

I don’t see this person,

I don’t see that person.

I see only me.

©Xavier J. Frazer

Corner Poet

image

A tamarind tree provides the shade he needs,
Cooling the spot where he rests.
A tomb for his seat,
Leaves blowing in the wind.
Inspiration at ever turn like the sun as it illuminates the sky,
Still he’s not sure what to write.
Thoughts running through his mind,
Like a stream that runs for miles.
He’s barely known,
Not yet famous,
The words he writes are his own.
Many days he sits silently alone,
Pen in hand,
Book sprawled across his lap,
Waiting for a friend,
Perhaps a stranger to come along.
It brings him great pleasure to share the thoughts he conjures up,
He writes from a place that brings him solace and comfort,
so don’t take from him what you didn’t give.

Copyright © Xavier Frazer 2016

All rights reserved. Including the rights to reproduce this poem, or portions thereof in any form. No part of this poem may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored, in any form or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author.

Untitled

image

I walked a thousand mile
alone,
no one to talk to.
Thinking about you,
all the wonderful times we had.
It was special and all,
but I guess you were just not meant for me.
I thought about calling you,
just to hear your voice.
If only hearing your voice,
would mend
this broken heart of mine.
Perhaps the taunting nightmares,
would cest to haunt me.
Dreams dissipated like,
reflections in water.
Fairy tales are fantasy’s of the mind,
a reality that constantly reminds me that your no longer mine.