Untitled Poem 2

I wrote this poem recently when I was feeling very depressed and alone.  I felt so hopeless and misunderstood.  It seemed like no one cared how I felt.  I felt totally invalidated.  I’ve been feeling a lot better since then.  I hope this poem helps people without BPD realize how intense our emotions are.


Every morning, I put on my armour,
To protect me from their poisoned tongues,
Each arrow pierces my soul,

With each one I die a little more each day,
How much dying can one take till they are truly dead?

I am not full of life,
I am not dead,
I am numb and feel nothing.
I am past feeling the pain,
Eventually you don’t feel anymore.

How does one feel so hollow, so empty?
A shell of a person?

How do you get past pain to nothingness?
How do you feel less than nothing?

What a curse it is,
To take on the world’s pain upon your shoulders,
Their anger, their fear,

To feel the darkness of a million souls,
All screaming in your head,
And filling your heart.

To feel it as your own.

And you can never stop the floodgate of emotions that wash over you,
Consuming you,
Draining you.

Dragon flames licking at your heels,
As you try to climb out of the hell that’s your life,
Only to be pulled back by your demons to be tortured anew,
When will it end?

– By Joyce Savage.