Poems of Dissociation, Confusion, and Survival
Codes: fear, distortion, forgetting, programming
Tone: honest, vulnerable, haunting
Poem Titles:
The Noise in My Head Wasn’t Mine
Diagnosed by Ghosts
I Said I Was Fine
How to Outrun a Memory
Echoes of the Edge is the beginning of a layered journey—a poetic record of what it means to lose your grip on what’s real, only to find a deeper truth beneath the chaos. Each part stands on its own, but together they trace the arc of remembering myself.
Part I is where the distortion lives.
These are poems from the edge—where the programming is loud, the memories are blurry, and the performance of being “fine” begins to crack.
Before you read the poems, I invite you into the space they came from.
A Quiet Witness to Madness
I didn’t write these poems to be understood.
I wrote them because I was drowning.
This is a time capsule from the season when my thoughts didn’t feel like my own—when I couldn’t tell the difference between who I was and what I had been programmed to believe. It’s raw. Disjointed. Honest in a way that only pain can be.
These are the poems that came through when I had nothing left but the noise in my head and the quiet whisper of something that still wanted to live.
If they feel chaotic, it’s because I was.
If they feel haunted, it’s because I was.
If they feel like fragments, it’s because I didn’t know I was allowed to be whole.
I share them now not as a map, but as a mirror—for anyone who has ever felt trapped in their own mind, unsure if they’d make it out. This is my witness:
That even in distortion, a deeper truth is always trying to break through.
If you’re still with me—thank you.
These words are tender evidence of a time when I wasn’t sure healing was possible.
Part II will arrive soon, but there’s no rush. Let this one echo as long as it needs to.
If it resonates, feel free to leave a reflection below or share this with someone else navigating the edge.
You can also click here to access all of the completed parts.
