Poetry On Odyssey: The Tragic Flaws Of A Papier-Mâché Body

Mental illness awareness is something I believe to be crucial to society. As a whole, our society stereotypes those with mental illnesses to be birds that flew straight out of the cuckoo nest. Obviously, this isn't the case, and this stereotype pushes people with mental illnesses into isolation. I want people to understand the pain of mental illness and how debilitating it can be. But also I want everyone with mental illnesses to know that they're not alone. What you're going through sucks, and I know that, but you are not alone in it at all. It's okay to be the way that you are, and you shouldn't let anyone tell you differently. Don't let anyone (including yourself) define you as your mental illness(es). There is so much more depth to you and your life, I promise.

On the outside, you’ll see

pieces of Paper

that make me look complete;

they make me seem whole.

However, it’s quite the contrary.

The individual pieces of Paper

deceiving

hollow bones

vacant soul.

i pile on Glue,

i pile the Newspapers

so i can feel full,

the physical satisfaction is

merely temporary.

i am weighed down by

Disgust,

Humiliation,

Disappointment,

Resentment,

Outrage.

Outrage takes comfort in my weakness.

i’m unfixable.

With every Headline i glue

onto my body,

i fall deeper into the

trap of distorted Glue invented

by the Conmen consuming society.

My Paper and Glue put to the test,

drastically failing.

Fissures

begin to widen

show my pain.

The Glue oozes through

gashes homemade.

Spilling reservoirs

are easier to cope with

compared to the

dark and deserted hollow

concealed by the Papier-Mâché skin.

How long must i go on,

using the foul ingredients and recipes

of the Conmen shaming my flawed artwork

to try and heal myself?

Six years of this hoax.

Six years of thinking the Papier-Mâché

would love me;

would heal me;

would make me whole.

Six years too long,

and i’m stretched to my limit.

Broken and still breaking;

i don’t think i can st—