Trying to Recover

I don’t know what to say.
Disorganized thoughts.
Auditory hallucinations.
Paranoid delusions.
It’s all still there.
It’s hidden,
But they pop out from
Time to time.
Say “hey, we’re still
Here to
Hurt you.”
They say “listen,
We still have
“We’ll still pierce
Please leave me
I’ll say “it’s really
No big deal;”
I’ll think “someone
Help me heal.”


There is a war going on inside me.
It looks like lions attacking each other,
It feels like being electrocuted
And set on fire in the same seconds.
Sometimes there is a lull in the war--
A break in the battles--
An eerie nothingness.
Everything is numb.

I have yet to process the trauma.
I have no feelings, other than 
A precarious curiosity of when 
the next perilous battle is,
And of who will win,
Or if there even will be a victor.

Will the lions ever tire?

My Selfish Secret- Poem by Sara

I don’t write because
I want to change the world
Or make the comfortable
Feel discomfort
And those uncomfortable
Experience comfort.
I write to benefit
Nobody other than myself.
I write because 
It’s the only thing that keeps
Me safe and sane.
If I weren’t writing this
Right now,
I might be drinking
Or bleeding
Or killing my kidneys with 
Too much lithium.
My writing is
My selfish secret
I’m willing to share.