Twenty Eight Brides
Everyday is a white wedding and
These pills are white as brides,
They sit in a silver casket
Beckoning, beckoning,
A siren’s call, the songs they sing
Send me scratching up the wall,
Reluctance and withdrawal
Coincide into an internal brawl
Bleeding finger nails
And jewels of sweat make a crown,
I crawl towards my brides
And their songs and their gowns,
Put one in my mouth to calm me down
And with twenty seven brides left
I know, I know, I know
I will do this all over again.
These are my remedies,
Black out the toxic memories
That sent me spiralling down into
A mental tragedy.
Try my best to pull away
But I know within two days
I will be back to kiss another white bride.
Without them I am kicking down the doors
To my own insanity.
Said my best friend was like my rapist
In angry profanity
Spat in his face
Charged him with vanity.
Shut the world out,
My own family is full of killers,
Brides burn my mind to cinders
A med is meant to help with my head
But instead I’m thinking I’m better off dead
My mind is left in shreds I’m tied down to my bed
By a Ghost as cruel as lead
He broke my heart
I jumped out my window
And broke my leg
I take my meds
Then the sky is turns red
The ghost is back and
I remember that he said
Your life is on a string
And I hold the blade and thread.
If I am married to my medication,
Then my wedding is red.
All twenty Eight of them
Put blades in my stomach
And rip me to shreds,
They are the reason I bled.
Letting go of medication is
Is to let go of sirens,
They promise you the world
But they give you just violence,
Soon, the voices go silent
And you know you can make it through this.
Poetry by Luke Cable 