I wish I were a psychopath;
They say one in one hundred are.
They can just flee from the aftermath;
All that remains on them is a scar.
I would be able to feel nothing;
My pain and hurt just disappear;
Every feeling and thought is numbing;
Who I am now is becoming unclear.
In the face of danger I will run;
No, not because I am afraid;
But because when the Novocaine fades;
I will know that I have won.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Mentally Insane
PoetryPoetry is the writing of our deepest, darkest, most inner thoughts. When speaking isn't enough and your voice falls upon deaf ears, writing is our only refuge. Join me and experience the workings of my mind in my collection of original poems. (Credi...
