jennyjensen

[jennyjensen]

Product of the Mind

Don’t blame me for my “choices”

They’re not a real thing.

My mind is just a product,

Of a shitty upbringing.

#poems on tumblr #original poem #writer #choices #medicine #writersnetwork #female writers #writerscommunity

[jennyjensen]

The Voice’s Game

Can you hear it?

The voice inside

That you push down deep and try to hide.

I let it surface yesterday

And I’m stuck with a voice that won’t go away.

It tells me that I’m beautiful,

But makes me do bad things.

If I disagree or try to silence it,

Only destruction it will bring.

I’ve lost my friends and family,

They said I’m not the same.

But the me they knew is weak and small,

Just a pawn in the voice’s game.

#writersnetwork #women writers #short fiction #dark poetry #poems on tumblr #original poetry #original poem #short poem #depressing poem #mentalheathawareness

[jennyjensen]

Numb is a Paradox

The paradox of feeling numb,

Is knowing that you are.

Feeling nothing,

Feels like something.

Like memories of a scar.

The battle that takes place inside,

The damage that it does.

The demons consume every inch of the

Gyri and sulci of us.

Until we think we are empty,

But nothing is not nothing.

The paradox of feeling numb,

Is that you’re feeling something.

#mentalheathawareness #original poetry #my poem #short poem #mental health #care #women writers #female writers #writersnetwork #writer #poetry #poems on tumblr

[jennyjensen]

Petrichor

I feel alone in my own home,

I forget it’s also mine.

I see the memories floating by,

As if there was no time.

But stuck to them is tape that reads,

“Caution: DO NOT CROSS”.

Its only when I go to look,

I realise that I’m lost.

The fog is misty,

Darkness chills me.

A sea of black and grey.

An echo in my head cries out,

“It has to be today!”.

The smell of oil, and flames that mask

The petrichor that I love.

It turns into a smell so bad,

I look to clouds above.

To see if there’s any air up there

In which freely I could breathe.

It’s only when I look down

at my feet, I start to scream.

Their bodies are unmoving,

They’re face down on the floor.

They burn in silence,

I look away, I can't watch this anymore.

It’s only then I realise,

What I’m holding in my hand.

The silver of the knife is gone,

Replaced by blood turned brown.

And then I’m back at home,

And everything’s just fine.

Except I can still smell them,

Where does one draw the line?

Between what is real and fantasy,

The difference is minute.

So how is it I come to find,

A box of matches in my suit?

I open up the windows,

Petrichor fills the room.

Silently I light them,

I know what I must do.

#original poetry #female writers #writer #poetry #my poem #original poem #dark poetry #short fiction

[jennyjensen]

Red

There are people in the shadows,

I need to make it bright,

To keep them from consuming me,

When day turns into night.

I hear their whispering voices,

It echoes in my head,

I turn around to seek them out,

But find it’s me instead.

No matter where I run to,

They follow me around,

The mirror shows the truth,

As their cries increase in sound.

I’m staring at my face now,

Into my dark green eyes,

I see the them in my pupils,

And stare back in surprise.

They’re tiny, almost non existent

I blink and they are gone,

The crying and the whispers stop,

I knew it all along.

My phone lets out a ring,

I’m asked about my day,

But when I go to answer them,

All that I can say

Are the echoes of the voices,

The people in my eyes,

I can’t stop the screams from coming out,

Or the blood pour from my eyes.

My vision’s gone,

The world is red,

It echoes all around.

They’re deaf and blind and stuck inside,

The me I never found.

And now I’m here,

Alone with them,

My hearing has been spared.

But I’m trapped inside,

Of my own eyes,

If only someone cared.

Things could be different, if I wasn’t in

A world where all is red.

But I couldn’t help but listen to,

The shadows in my head.

I hear the front door open,

It’s the voice of Joan, my neighbour

“Haven’t seen her in days” she said

“She screamed as if in labour”.

“I worry something bad has happened

It’s not like her at all”

The paramedics climb the stairs,

And then I hear her fall.

The cries come from the real world,

As well as in my head.

I hold on tightly to my eyes,

And they question if I’m dead.

I lie so still and silent,

As if I am indeed.

But chaos soon erupts,

When they see that I can breathe.

I can’t see the people in the shadows,

But I know that they are there.

If anyone can hear me,

Don’t tell me that you care.

#short poem #poetry #original poetry #writer #mental illness #mentalheathawareness #fiction #my poem #poems on tumblr #women writers

[jennyjensen]

Bedside Diary. Entry One.

He's gone. Gone for good. Now that might sound ominous but I assure you I'm not a crazy woman with a machete covering my tracks by writing this. I just need an outlet. Anyways, who's even going to read a diary stuffed down the side of my bed when the only person I let in the house is dead?

Murdered I should say. I need to stop lying to myself and pretending it was something it wasn't. Not even butterflies and rainbows can brighten this shit.

I'm keeping a cool head, trying not to let the pressure of the funeral weigh me down... or drive me to a complete psychotic break. Had that before. Not fun.

Things weren't great with us towards the end, but it doesn't mean I don't feel bad or miss him. Tell you what, I don't miss his stuck up sister and her yappy little dog/rat. Glad they'll be out of my life after the funeral is over and done with.

I can't stop thinking about him; all the things we said we'd do together that can never happen. I feel so angry at him and I know that's wrong. No one asks to be brutally murdered and thrown into a river 5 days after their birthday.

But then again, he shouldn't have pissed me off enough to deserve it.

*Want more? Let me know and I'll upload the second entry*

#fiction #journal #part one #crime #mystery #thriller