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Painted Brain | Two Poems
We're bridging communities and changing the conversation about mental illness using arts and media.
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  • admin
  • October 6, 2014

Two Poems

untitled (1)

Much like a penny tossed into a well,

Without a splash, without a sound,

Look deep into a darkness that eyes can’t dispel

Try to find where the penny fell,

Without a splash, without a sound,

I am the penny, but what’s worse,

I am the well.

untitled (2)

Here I sit,

Paralyzed,

Pair of eyes,

 Always looming over.

Are they mine?

Living in a world without black and white,

There is no day, no night,

There are no hours.

Every moment sours at the touch of my mind.

 It’s a crime, a gift, to myself.

People around me say,

“trust us,” “let me help,”

It makes me feel more broken,

“you’ve been living with your eyes closed,” they say,

“Let me help you get them open.”

So here I sit,

Paralyzed,

Pair of eyes,

Like flies,

Buzzing from shit, to shit.

Being told to love life,

With the eyes of the flies,

seeing shit as a means to go on,

does not make me strong,

It makes me think.

Is it me that needs to change?

Is what’s wrong with ME whats wrong?

Thinking critically with the eyes,

Oh those eyes,

They help me to see,

and so help me,

 They see clearly.

untitled (1)

Much like a penny tossed into a well,

Without a splash, without a sound,

Look deep into a darkness that eyes can’t dispel

Try to find where the penny fell,

Without a splash, without a sound,

I am the penny, but what’s worse,

I am the well.

untitled (2)

Here I sit,

Paralyzed,

Pair of eyes,

 Always looming over.

Are they mine?

Living in a world without black and white,

There is no day, no night,

There are no hours.

Every moment sours at the touch of my mind.

 It’s a crime, a gift, to myself.

People around me say,

“trust us,” “let me help,”

It makes me feel more broken,

“you’ve been living with your eyes closed,” they say,

“Let me help you get them open.”

So here I sit,

Paralyzed,

Pair of eyes,

Like flies,

Buzzing from shit, to shit.

Being told to love life,

With the eyes of the flies,

seeing shit as a means to go on,

does not make me strong,

It makes me think.

Is it me that needs to change?

Is what’s wrong with ME whats wrong?

Thinking critically with the eyes,

Oh those eyes,

They help me to see,

and so help me,

 They see clearly.

by: Asaf Ben-Efraim

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