Borderline

Borderline.

Bordering on the verge—
of my sanity.
Crossing the line—
Of my boundaries.

Borderline.

Predictably unpredictable.
Fire and ice.
Love and contempt.
“I hate you; don’t leave me.”

Borderline.

Throwing a match on relational gasoline.
Watching flames with delight.
Feigning ignorance of destruction.

Borderline.

Stabs you with a smile.
Blames it on you.
Starts to cry.
Demands comfort.

Borderline.

Crazy maker.
Is this all in my head?
Did I cause this?
Am I a terrible person?

Borderline.

Bordering between social norms and insanity.
Convincing you all is normal.
Walking lines of triangulation.
Pretending you are the one disrupting the peace.

Borderline.

Porcupine shoots quills.
You are attacked by defenses that don’t make sense.
Quilled creature requires comfort.
Blood spills in your pursuit to help.
Creature proves inconsolable—blames you for the mess.
You are wounded for nothing.

Borderline.

“I’ll leave you before you leave me.”
Like a thief in the night before being discovered—you awaken to find them gone.
Abandons you before the truth comes out—you may never know why.
Accuses you of abuse and hostility—you are the reason.

Borderline.

Lays a path of glass.

Cries for bleeding hands.
Demands you run to them.
Delights in your injuries.
Libels you insensitive for not reaching them faster.

Borderline.

No way to reason with them.
No way to heal them.
No way to get the full truth.
No way to make them stay when they’ve determined to go.

Borderline.

**Please note: This poem is a description of growing up with a borderline parent. It is not intended to define, diagnose, or demean any individual struggling with mental illness. It is merely intended to shed light on a personal experience.