Over stimulating keeps you running,
Free time congregates over-thinking.
You would rather drag the deadweight,
Than exist part of the moment.
Even when running on empty,
Where there’s nothing left to carry.
I think I’ve written these lines before,
That last stanza stole a past title.
I try to write happier words,
I try to believe they’ll come true.
I try to string them together,
But I can’t force them to ring true.
This is my mental outlet,
It’s purpose has always been.
If it isn’t the truth,
It has no purpose.
So I’ll keep trying,
And I’ll keep writing.
Every time I die,
I have to wake up.
Brittan began writing poetry in June 2020. She uses poetry as a therapeutic exercise when revisiting homophobic traumatic memories and describing life with BPD & Bipolar 2. She uses poetry as a medium for self-expression when discussing Buddhism, lesbianism, and platonic love.
One thought on “Time’s Up”
Oh, Britty, I wish I could heal your hurt. Yes-keep trying, keep writing. Keep waking up. Know that there are people, myself included, that want to be there for you in the lows and the highs–but we wonder how.
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