B E V E R L Y x

We are the suicide kids The generation between x and y Who saw the end of world but didn’t know what it meant Who have more slit wrists and psych appointments then opportunities I wish this was a brighter poem But we are the kids who hid from the abuse behind masks of false smiles We know how to work harder because we’re competing with people twice our age and skill And no matter how much training we can’t fix it There’s more drugs then hope And everyone knows a drug dealer, or 6 We are the abused that became abusers Giving each other mental scars I’m not sure will ever heal We are the kids who don’t know what’s behind the mask Because we never got a chance to explore I’m not blaming our parents They did the very best they could in a world that changed so drastically I can’t say I’d do it any different I tried to grab on to the remnants of what I thought our identity was But it got lost somewhere between the lines of the people we want to be and who we are A generation that’s so sick of having to carry knives and pepper spray Who know what it’s like to sit silent in a room full of predators We aren’t perfect But our killjoy noise stains the flag Most of us have fallen into some kind of hell We call it home easily Always know someone who lost their war We are comfortable at graveyards At ease in church halls from funerals Have a list of songs they can’t play anymore And maybe this time we’ll do better But this is all we’ve got

Self care isn’t always pretty , it’s not always candles and a bathtub full of roses , sometimes it’s forcing yourself to get out of bed and dragging yourself , sometimes it’s the pep talk you give to yourself or the quick cry in the corner . sometimes it is convincing yourself to do all these things you should be doing but you have no will whatsoever , sometimes it’s cutting some ties no matter how precious they were , sometimes it’s the bitter medicine you need to give yourself . Self care isn’t always pretty but it’s so worth it .

It felt like I was suffocating, suffocating in my own skin. Knowing that there wasn’t anyone who could hear my scream from inside. I laid there calmly, starring out the window. I wanted to cry, cry to the point where I couldn’t breathe but there was nothing but silence.