POETRY

Image by Olga Thelavart

Foreigner

By Melinda Seipel

*** Trigger Warning***
Please note this poem contains themes relating to suicide.

Foreigner

 

Face to face with a foreign reflection, inside the bathroom mirror,

Windows wide letting steam outside, in an attempt to see her clearer.

The fog now cleared but still the girl, remains to me unknown,

her weary eyes appear to whisper, "somebody take me home."

 

Scanning her face it seems to me, the life from her was drained

something happened and now she knows, she’ll never be the same.

No words released from her crusty lips, she has nothing to say,

but it’s clear to see there’s something she, is trying to escape.

 

I notice now the steady inhales, as she takes another breath,

my eyes begin to wander down, to the bruises on her neck.

Bruises of different shades much darker, than her natural skin,

cuts and grazes on the side of her face, and the bottom of her chin.

 

Her arms are folded gently over, the front of her body exposed,

attempting to convince herself, that she was well composed.

With blemishes on the side of her wrists, I realise what she’s done,

and feel her pain of being afraid, of the person she’s become

 

Underneath her arms I see, her chest is blemished and battered,

could this be why her confidence, to me seems rather shattered?

She moves her arms from the mirrors view, and drops them to her side,

she’s scared of what people may think, so all her scars she hides

 

I look away from the foreign face, that I saw in the mirrors reflection,

as I wash my hands it’s then that I, could finally make the connection.

The scars and bruises of the girl in the mirror, that covered her wrists completely,

are the very same scars on the arms of myself, the girl in the mirror was me.

 

The numbness goes away and then, I start to feel the pain,

I’m overwhelmed by flashbacks, as they come in constant waves.

The echoes of the words they spoke, are ringing in my ears,

like blades against my delicate skin, my self-esteem is pierced.

 

How can it be that all this time, the reflection was my own?

When did I become like this? I’m barely skin and bone.

I cannot recognise the girl I am, to myself I am a stranger,

and how is it that the ones I love, are the ones who put me in danger?

 

The people close to you are the ones, you’re meant trust the most,

but what if they’re the ones injecting pain, at its highest dose?

How could I have never realised, that this was not okay?

that in your home it isn’t normal, for you to feel unsafe?

 

I don’t know who to trust anymore, people are always lying,

If they promised not to hurt me, then why am I now crying?

Why am I now crying, and constantly exhausted?

In battle with myself I think, it’s time for me to forfeit.

 

My mind is playing tricks on me, I hate who I’ve become,

embarrassed by my numerous scars, myself I cannot love.

I’m trapped inside my body, I’m trapped inside my home,

surrounded by a crowd of people, but still feel so alone

 

Nobody sees the scars, nobody knows the pain,

they cannot see the real me so, I put up this facade.

I’m crying to myself not letting, people see my tears,

and covering the bruises, every time that they appear. 

 

I need to hide my bruises, so my loved ones don’t get in trouble,

Even if it means that, my own life ends in rubble.

They’ll come around eventually, and realise their mistakes,

so I’ll wait a little longer here, I’m sure that I’ll be safe.

 

Bruises aren’t that big a deal, I deserved it anyway,

I know with time that things will change, and it will be okay.

I’ll find myself again I’m sure, it’s probably just a phase,

but as for now into this person, I may just have to fade.

 

I’ll live like this not ever knowing, when the next outburst will come,

I’ll take it in and let them say, I’m worthless and I’m dumb.

They don’t mean those words they’re saying, so I’ll just let it slide,

won’t bother to respond to them, I’ll give them no reply.

 

Maybe they will stop if I, just tried a little more,

maybe then there’ll be no blood stains, covering the floors.

I never do feel comfortable, to eat in my own house,

so like a mouse, I emerge from my room, only when they’re out.

 

I always fear I’m being watched, and this is what it means,

my body has been starving, but I never let it eat.

I stare at the outline of my bones, a skeleton so weak

I’ve never been this thin before, what’s happening to me?

 

I run my fingers over the skin, sheltering my ribs,

and wonder if those layers of skin, really do exist

I feel the bones their touch direct, my ribs are fully bare,

so really I am questioning, if skin is even there

 

I breathe in now the air so thin, recentering my thoughts,

and force a smile upon my lips, like I was always taught.

No need to show your weaknesses, just keep them to yourself,

nobody really cares enough, so they’re not going to help.

 

A sudden bang on the bathroom door, I thought that I’d been caught,

comforting myself, wishing back, the girl I was before.

I gather all my things, It’s time for this to end,

I open up the bathroom door, step into war again.

 

Headed for my bedroom, footsteps on the floor,

with fragile fingers I quietly reach, for the handle on the door.

I step into my safe place, the place where I find peace,

where only for a moment, all the raging thoughts may cease.

 

The door now locked behind me, my mind has been made up,

I’ve tried so long to make them proud, I’m sorry it wasn’t enough.

The chaos on the other end, of the wooden door continues,

I stand there for a minute more, now I know what I must do.

 

If this is all there is to life, then it’s time for me to leave,

it’s clear that I’m not wanted here, the problem here is me.

I stumble to my bed, for a better life I dream,

with blades to my wrists in a vertical line, I lay down and accept defeat.

___________________________

My name is Melinda Seipel and I am a 3rd year double degree student at Queensland University of Technology (QUT). I have loved writing from a very young age and have continued writing through my adolescence and adulthood in the form of personal blogs and poetry in particular. I had an article that was featured on a music festival review page a few years ago and have had some experience in songwriting too but my main form is through blogs which can be found here