Poetry from a damaged soul

Light bulb

I'm falling again.
Crashing hard into the sharp edges of my world growing , forming in my head.
A light bulb , old and flickering , no ones rushing to change it out again and renew the light inside of me.
Instead I wither further and inch towards burning out.
Moving is a prick of thorns , showering flashes memories like a movie into my head and sends shocks of paranoia down my spine.
My eyes can't bare to look at he reflection it sees , scans , observes , hates.
New things and old things pop out and stand out , spit venomous words into my skull rattling it around , making my brain run miles around it , making me go completely insane.
Days are hours and loops , 24 hours and days of the week are just labels to me , they don't apply to my mind anymore.
A nightmare shows itself upon my glazed eyes , stare close and you will see.
But, I've heard I'm too much to deal with.
That no one can help me.
I think it's true because no ones ever proven me wrong.