Self care isn’t selfish

Have you ever noticed that the only people shitting on self-care are the ones who don’t practice it themselves?

That the ones annoyed at you for taking time for you..

Are only mad because it’s something they can’t stand to be alone to do?

And the ones scoffing at your 6-8 recommended hours of sleep at night..

Are the ones who draw blackout curtains at the sign of morning light?

Have you noticed people who don’t take the time to eat three meals a day..

Are the ones upset cause you’re hungry and you cannot stay.

Self care isn’t selfish,

And the ones who say it is are just jealous cause they wish

For the self control and boundaries that self care truly requires.

The ones shitting on it are the ones starting all the fires.

And they’re just mad when you stop chasing after putting all their fires out.

And when you pull ahead they’re the first to cast the shadow of doubt.

Don’t make the mistake of letting them be the one that you confide in..

They’re the first to tell you “you’ll fail..the tasks impossible.. you’ll never win”..

Well I say “watch my ass until I turn into a silhouette on the horizon.”

Written and owned by d3licate



I’m exhausted by my life again,

Feel like I’m caught up in life’s undertow.

I realized it’s now hard because it hadn’t been,

I guess things had got better I just didn’t even know.

Now every day once again feels like Im struggling,

And im wearing my facade but im not sure if its covering,

Tossing back and forth it feels like im suffering,

It’s getting harder and harder to ignore the pain,

This war with my brains going to drive me insane…

They told me not to hate the platuea,

They warned me to accept the compliments they would eventually stop coming.

They said after this a new person would grow,

But some days it feels like that light keeps on dimming,

And if it goes out then where would I go?

And the demons everywhere sometimes it’s all I can see,

Sometimes I get scared how will I get anywhere when it won’t let me be?

And on my bad days I wonder still..

“what if the demon is actually me?”

I cast out those thoughts,

Lord in your name I pray, be near me lord Jesus I ask you to stay..

I can still see the beauty I see it everyday,

And it’s the only thing keeping the darkness at bay.

Every days a harder lesson in exposure therapy,

Choosing to be alone instead of choosing to feel lonely.

Every day asking myself “do you ever want to be free?”

To break free from my prison this is where I have to choose to be,

And every morning I see progress, I choose to open up my eyes,

Doesn’t matter if it’s sunny, or if it’s dark and rainy skies.

And when I lay my head down I know the demon only lies.

And I come a little more free from my ties…


Something I always wanted but didn’t think I could be..

Because my minds been a prison that no one else could see.

Spent so much time hung up on a wish,

Don’t take the bait you’re not a fish..

But if you never had innocence what’s there to miss?


Written and owned by d3licate

If I’d had a daughter

If I had, had a daughter, I’d have named her Madeleine.

If I’d had to be a mother, I’d do things differently than mine.

I’d try not to shelter her without crossing the invisible line.

If I had a daughter I would teach her not to be a used bandaid..

I’d teach her that she’s not a vacuum meant to clean up the mess that others made..

I’d teach her not to be a crutch, I’d teach her that she’s not a cane..

Id say “Darling were damned to feel too much but we’re not a bandaid for the pain..”

Cause baby all these damn emotions, its in our blood to want to help..

But baby not everyone’s coping and they’ll drag you to their hell”

And if I had a daughter I’d teach her not to be a maid,

It’s not her job to clean up messes,

No it is not her price to pay.

If I had a daughter I’d teach her she’s not a bandaid..

She’s already been forgiven her sins have already been paid.

Written and owned by d3licate

Sometimes the easy ways really the hard way

I don’t want to be around people,

I want to stay glued in my phone,

I don’t want to be social,

But I don’t want to be alone.

And I don’t want to think about all the shame, guilt and doubt,

But even as I yammer on these thoughts are all I think about.

I feel like a robot,

Like a downloaded program,

Not capable of outside thought,

Stuck in the loop installed on my RAM

I’m a puppet, youre up there pulling my strings,

I’m a flightless bird because you plucked my feathers from my wings,

And now I’m falling and not head over heels,

I may not know love but know this is not how it feels,

If you love something you let it go and if it comes back then it was real,

I keep returning everytime, but I return out of fear.

Tell me how long did you hide away that dirty dinner spoon,

Thinking that you’d actually found something, but it’s just food and you look like a loon,

How you insult me, you truly think I’m that dumb?

And that’s like a slap to my face, God it stings.

Honestly, I can’t believe you sank so low,

After you came with me to get my tattoo that said “my scars turned to flowers beauty in the way they show”

So you still see a junkie? Unless the whole things just a lie,

An excuse so you can feel good about leaving me high and dry,

I use you?

Welcome to my life, here I’ll turn around and hold my hair up so you can see clearly where you want to insert the knife.

All those arguments where I screamed at you “you don’t even care”,

And your lies about how “it’s all for you”.

It’s safest to just assume nothing you said has ever been true.

Now I stare at my reflection and I beg her “don’t come back this time,

You can figure it out, you can nickel and dime,

I beg her this time mean it when you go,

You shouldn’t have to still defend yourself, if he loved you he’d already know.”

“If he loved you and he was really scared you’d gone back to shooting up, he wouldn’t tell you to pack up and get out,

He would know something must be really wrong, he’d ask what was it about..”

I want to promise myself this time I’ll be strong,

But if I don’t it’ll hurt me less if I’m wrong.

Sometimes the easy way is really the hard way.

Written and owned by d3licate.

So much death this year

I swear all of the people who truly see me are dying,

And I mean literally, they’re dead.

And tears run down my cheeks but I’m not sure why I’m crying;

But its 2 death 0 me on the last thing I said.

My final words to the last two were me bitching about my kidney stone..

I hear my alter in my head sarcastically asking me “but did you die? No they did and now you’re all alone.”

I miss my great grandmother,

Cause God it’s hard to be a light in the dark,

Hard to love with all this hate it’s gasoline and I’m a spark..

I already feel burnt up,

So burnt out,

And reality is setting in,

Outside I just look normal, but inside I’m so broken,

my mutated muscles hiding so well beneath my skin.

I was maybe eight the first time I dislocated my shoulder,

And mom always told me if I kept sitting like that I would regret it when I got older,

When I was young it just made me laugh,

Now as an adult I just grow even colder.

No cure.

They’re not the words I wanted to hear,

But all the research I’d done couldn’t have been more clear,

My diagnoses now confirm my biggest fear.

“When it gets bad, we’ll do something about it”

My rheumatologist was a liar,

Just like my allergist might be fired,


“The good news is you dont have allergies you have mast disease and mast cell is easily manageable with OTC meds and high doses of antihistamines”

Do you even know what “easily manageable” means?

It means no more shampoo, no more creams,

forget about makeup,

you don’t have to give up; you’ll just need to change your dreams.

It means not going out, it means forgetting the shower.

Rescheduling plans hoping you’ll feel better in another hour.

It means no more cooking cause I can’t stand at the stove,

Just one more on the list of things I can’t do that I used to love.

What kind of quality of life is this? How is this symptom management?

I can barely even feed myself, I can’t make money and all mines been spent.

Help; help; I need an adult,

I don’t know how to handle this I’m sorry it is not my fault.

I miss my great grandma..

Cause now it’s hard to see the light in the dark..

Written and owned by d3licate

Fuck it just ride with it

One of these days I’m not going to come home,

When my heart freezes enough I won’t feel guilty for leaving you alone.

I fucking love you, not that you’d take the time to read this poem,

When I leave the house you can’t even bother to pick up the phone.

Your pain is killing you, you’ve grown so goddamn cold.

So many broken promises, yet I cannot break your hold.

I cannot stay here but I don’t know what to do,

So terrified you’ll hurt yourself and I can’t help that I love you.

Written and owned by d3licate


I am consistently underestimated,

It’s why I wasted years on trying to get faded.

Consistently emasculated.

Photogenic is overrated.

Because society says I can’t tell a boy he’s not a man,

And I’m not a woman because I don’t have a tan.

My body rated one to ten,

My reflections purpose appeasing men.

These boys didn’t give me a chance to develop,

They didn’t care who the girl they rated was the shell of.

This emptiness I let it dictate.

To be used, abused and broken my “fate”.

I wonder did they know what was buried within,

That from a coal can come a diamond?

Don’t take my kindness for weakness,

Because it was just the bad I had to repress.

It doesn’t mean I don’t remember what I learned.

It doesn’t mean I don’t stand by the truths I discerned.

Every guy I’ve cared for thinks that they were better,

But they were never the best suitor.

They didn’t win because of what they had,

Or because they thought they were better at pretending they weren’t sad.

I didn’t choose them because they looked the best,

In fact all of these boys they failed my test.

In fact they didn’t even try,

If they’d told the truth I would have asked them to lie.

I wasn’t ready for the person I’d become,

So I didn’t mind making myself dumb.

I felt it all, and it made me numb.

I know they thought that I was weak,

I wasn’t “strange” I was just unique.

They may have picked me for my apparent weakness,

I could have told them the truth but I digress.

I’ve learned my importance isn’t defined by my journeys length.

The truth is, in my weakness I find my strength.

I am not weak because they had the power,

I was never weak, it was just not my finest hour.

I’d been persuaded I was destined for a path that many sought.

Told I was doing right even though I was not.

Because society told me pretty lies,

And I refused to read between the lines.

My truth is not for all to hear,

My future is set though it’s not always clear.

My love is unconditional,
I am monogamous but untraditional.

Because they take my test but just keep failing,

I choose the west but it’s not smooth sailing.

It takes building yourself up, and tearing yourself down.

You have to accept your fate, inhale the water so you drown.

Truth is you don’t only live once,

Dying is a reoccurrence.

So you can see where you went wrong,

A single life is not that long.

I suffocated when I was nineteen,

When I awoke I understood fuck your grass being green.

For when a single ant bite can end your existence,

You have to learn the art of persistence.

Because every day could be your last,

A life you’d taken for granted had already passed.

You cant lay in the grass face to the sun,

Saying no to things that used to be fun.

But i had to learn not everything’s worth dying for,

I know I had cancer but I found the cure.

No one believes that I faced off with death,

Felt myself dying with every breathe.

But I know I made the choice,

I said NO and found my voice.

My life was not my own to give,

The cancer died when I chose to live.

The third time I died I swallowed pills,

Tired of contemplating the drop from window sills.

Because I put my faith where it didn’t belong,

And since I wasn’t enough i couldn’t go on
Six feet under I dug my own pit,

Never tried to find a way to fix it.

Redundancy became my friend,

I couldn’t find the strength so again I chose the end.

This time I swallowed more than enough,
Hoping but certain I wouldn’t wake up.

“God I know this is a sin,
But he stole my pure, and he burned my skin.”

“ God I fell into the lions den,
I lost faith in you, put my faith in men.”

Perhaps I died going down those stairs,

The memory raises goosebumps, it tickles little hairs.

That a human is capable of terrible acts,

I learned the horror stories were actually facts.

But forty six flexerol, countless Xanax made me drop.

I died because I wasn’t strong and I wanted it to stop.

This death taught me, I was wrong I am never alone,
That when I’m with god I’m always home.

And all the love i tried to deny,

The life I had lived was all a lie.

Many people think they know me,

But I will be only what they want to see.

And they will never know what I know,

I cannot make change, just water flowers and watch them grow.

I thought that a martyr sacrificed,

And I rescind the lies I typed.

It doesn’t mean you let yourself go,

But there isn’t any shame in letting your scars show.

I died to forget the lies I had been told,

I had to die to break the mold.

In my weakness, I have grown strong,

And others perception of me is very wrong,

I am not perfect, I will make a mistake,

But I promise I see through the fake.

I know what is fake and what is real,

I know what it means to really feel.

I do not judge your misconception,

But don’t mistrust my predilection.

You do not know who I will be,

I see others but they don’t see me.

Written and owned by d3licate

Well fuck

I haven’t done much writing lately,

I’ve gotten pretty good at going ghost,

My boyfriends insinuating that I’m just lazy,

It’s made the anger start to simmer and I’m beginning to roast.

It’s somewhat all my own fault, my face is always stuck in my phone,

But lately when I need someone I find myself completely alone.

How many nights will I spend staring at cigarette butts and that stupid fucking empty bowl?

Cause I’ve been so goddamn depressed feels like I mightve finally crippled my soul,

Alex you realized a long time ago your addiction to nicotine, the narcissist and shit won’t fill the gaping hole..

your plan backfired alex; this is out of control..

How many nights?

How many nights will you toss and turn until the motion makes you physically sick,

You know all these answers so why won’t they stick,

You knew your life wouldn’t be easy alex, they told you death wouldn’t come quick..

I feel so trapped, and I don’t know what to do,

You’ve always known how you could change it, you couldn’t stop but at least you knew..

This predicament has got me completely forlorn,

And I feel my cries for help are lately only met by scorn,


I think I got myself trapped.

Written and owned by d3licate

Two years.

Two years;

It’s going on almost two years now since I finally got sober.

Yet it still hangs over my head like a thundercloud and I wonder will it ever be over?

Would you still have asked me where that needle went if I’d never let the needle own me?

Is it really still so easy to warp my picture once again into one of a junkie?

No one puts a needle in their arm because they love themselves,

No one puts a needle in their arm just cause they love getting high,

I proved myself wrong when I put the needle down,

I did some serious growing from then until now..

But when the question leaves your mouth

“What happened to the needle that was in this box?”


You must really think I’m dumb as rocks.

I can buy a pack of ten for a dollar at the Walmart neighborhood market pharmacy.

They wouldn’t ask me any questions it’s been two years but they may even still recognize me.

Why would I steal your mom’s autoinjector from your fridge.

I’m so disappointed I’m pouring gasoline and preparing to burn this bridge.

In my life I haven’t accomplished anything that I set out too,

But when I put down the needle I did something I didn’t think I could ever truly do.

And no one can take that away from me;

Especially not you.

Written and owned by d3licate


They say the people we dislike the most, are usually the ones we most resemble.

It’s easier to act like you’re better and call them annoying; then it is to look in the mirror.


Something everyone sees that you do.

Well that is everyone but yourself when the one projecting is you..

You think you made me, but you didn’t help me not one bit.

Well, not to be a hypocrite, you might’ve helped a little bit..

But I’ve managed this light all on my own,

I kept taking life’s punches hit after hit.

beaten and bloody from the hand I was shown.

Life’s still beating me.

Most days I just want it all to stop,

I beg myself not to get back up, knowing one blow and I’m just going to drop.

I tell myself I can’t do it, I can’t do this anymore.

Searching for a way out and I can’t find a door so I just stay on the floor.

I guess when you’re fighting life; you know you won’t be leaving with it.

“well life’s not fair” blah blah blah; it’s all bullshit.

Life’s hard, and it hurts and guess what none of us will survive.

It’s not really a fight you win, it’s not a fight you’ll leave alive.

But how many rounds can you go?

How many times will you climb back up on your feet?

and what made your fight worth it?

Did you show bravery as you faced your defeat?

We’re fucking stuck here. We didn’t choose to be alive,

and there’s no instruction manual nothing to teach us how to survive.

We’re not good students we’d rather fight the truth than to learn,

and though happiness should be a given its something a lot of us have to fight to earn.

you don’t listen.

it goes into one ear straight through than back out,

You don’t like not having the answers it fills you up with insecurities and doubt.

You’re growing bitter; the angers turning you cold, and no one likes a quitter but the fight is getting old.

“it’s hard to be a light in the dark” because you can’t ever let down your guard,

but when it seems the darks got you sputtering out is when you’ll realize staying lits not that hard.

Theyre the ones fighting to put you out, meanwhile light is just who you really are.

But you can keep fighting, if that’s what you want, and while you’re losing to life; death will be on the sidelines to taunt.

Broken bones they heal, and cuts will fade out to a scar.

and someday down the road you will not find them when you tell the story of why you are who you are.

You aren’t special because you think you’ve had it all so much worse.

Inside every humans a narcissist who swears “no you don’t get it my life’s actually the worst”.

You aren’t cursed. God didn’t special pick you out of the pack and say your life’s going to be pure torture while I cut all the rest a little slack.

We’ve all been through shit and we all have our pride,

We all carry secrets that we’ve buried inside.

But it doesn’t make us stronger cause we’ve been through harder things,

What’s important is how many times did you keep getting up? how many times did you dodge his swings?

But if you’re a fighter and you’re refusing to sit down and learn.

Then suck the bad shit the fuck up, cause you agreed to eating shit and rug burn.

Written and owned by d3licate