I always wonder…
If I overdose on this depression I subconsciously created,
using internal conflict,
influenced by the repetition of the words and actions of the people from the
PAST…
Is that considered a suicide attempt?
I mean I’m not suicidal,
but if you ask me if I’m afraid to die
I will hold up a picture of me shaking hands with
the Grim Reaper.
I’m not suicidal…
I’m just cordial with the idea of death.
I am not suicidal… I promise.
I just thought these parallel lines
would be the ladder I needed to make me feel like
I’m going somewhere other than down.
I’m not suicidal…
I just always wondered…
“Am I the catastrophic event that killed my own innocence?”
Perhaps I starved myself of all things good because
the death of the part of me that was
overprotective of my inner child
was the birth of the part of me that
left my inner child unprotected.
“Why can’t I forgive myself?”
I mean what good did it do me to think that narcissism
and victimization was a love language?
Why do I walk the crowded halls
with a crowded mind,
as my soul is in the middle of empty space?
Who am I anyways?
A lost girl who continuously loses
herself in the midst of crowded nothingness?
“A damaged person with a healing spirit” with
no one to kindle her own?
Who am I?!
A stream stuck in the middle of oceans?
A shooting star stuck being unseen…?
and if you can’t see a shooting star to wish upon,
what is truly its purpose?
At the age of eighteen, Lamya’s biggest accomplishment was becoming the Cedar Valley Youth Poet Laureate of 2024.