#33 Mental Crisis

  courtesy: Kat Kotrla

When…

did your change begin?

Was it a sudden break

in psyche that separated

your life into two

separate events

barely linking

this blurring void

you became nurtured in

to your former self

and each familiar face

that never recognized

they’d been speaking

all the while to

a different person…

Did this difference

in your thinking

creep insidiously

across the words you hid

their etchings

a graffiti of screaming voices

plastered to the ceiling

hanging within inches

of sanity’s floor

the very place you left

your empty spray painting cans

discarded,

their cluttered buildup

then to progressively ignore.

Why didn’t you say something?

Those moments

when everything seemed sharper

Those times when

you questioned

if the way you felt about this world

was  really the person you were

or a person encountering

a mental crisis…

but you rejected

being self-labeled as a disaster

You could take care of yourself

and this lie became your honesty

even when you

acknowledged in

small, scary moments

that you needed help

out of this drudgery…

but

everyone was fooled

so no one thought to ask

and this was a relief

because if they never did

it meant

maybe nothing was wrong

and this smile you wore

really wasn’t

a thin mask

hardly hiding

a deconstructed farce

as a covering…

Everything was under control

It just wasn’t under yours

and when you realized this

it was already too late

your hands had sprayed

graffiti all over your space

and when that floor

became painted over

it sealed your fate…

Not too long after;

it happened.

You never saw a next morning

Your identity was stolen

and someone else wore your

facial expressions.

And the ones who loved you

were left in shock

wondering

how they could have missed the signs

that really

no one but you

had seen coming…

#SELAHSATURDAYS

 My Inspiration: World Mental Health Day
 

© KohylahPiper 2015

#18 Edel...

    
courtesy: T Al Nakib

Each day we saw you yet we never perceived your pain

Deep inside your chest, never laid to rest

Every face that you put on was nothing but a lie

Leaking through the mazes of your aching mind.

Enemies borne of you had pervaded your silent space

Damaging your last bricks of defense and its sinking base

Everyone thought they knew you but no one ever did

Laughter was your remedy to hide your anxious dread.

Early Monday morning, you shocked me to my core

Dying... they said when we'd spoken just three nights before?

Everyone was talking 'bout how you tried to take your life

Liquid poison burning your throat igniting a chemical fire

Eventually I got away, and rushed to the 4^th floor

Death lurked in our ICU, lying damp behind closed doors

Every beep confused me, I guess I still couldn’t comprehend

Lifeless-like eyes gazed up, from the pale face of my friend.

Edel, I touched your hair, I prayed and held your hand

Deep inside I knew that life would not be the outcome

Every step I took after raced to get outside but

Long before I reached the exit, I had already begun to cry.

Each week that went by, your body seemed to fight

Death was held at bay, but only for a while

Eventually I saw you for the very last time

Lifting your eyes tubes and all, you actually tried to smile

Easing into the darkness you finally took your flight

Days of study flew by fast after, but you stayed on my mind

Ever so often, in moments not unlike this

Led by nostalgia's gentle arms I begin to reminisce

Explaining our own version of Roca’s Book. Number Two.

Details of farm life, first love, and first wife

Earnestly remembering your mother, who you lost too soon

Loving your son, the life of guajiros under the harvest moon

Each year since 2012, you resurface in my mind’s eye

Dark brown hair, those batty ears...your lopsided smile

Even though now, our whole class now leads separate lives

Long will we remember the sound of death's roar

So softly emptying reality’s truth onto the floor

Singular tragedy that only produced more

Unexpectedly opening a seemingly non-existent door

Icily ripping a father from a son

Claiming a life before it had really begun

Indignantly killed you in small pieces as led

Darkening our roll call...each time your name was mistakenly read…

Ever so often, just like this, I see your face and then 

slowly I begin to reminisce.

   

#WSPD2015

 My Inspiration: My Classmate

 

© KohylahPiper 2015