Paranoia
and loneliness
are a
terrible mix.
One hides,
and the other clings,
one cries
while the other screams,
and they can't help
but think of how things
used to be,
when neither were here,
and I was free.
Because they'd love to escape,
and then, desperately,
come crawling back to me.
Paranoia
screeches that
I cannot trust
anyone,
not a single soul,
cause they all have goals,
they're only
playing games
to find out
when I'll go insane.
She tells me that
I'm just a joke
to other folk,
and I should know,
that it's all a show.
She whispers
in my ear,
filling my heart
with fear,
describing
how they speak horrid things,
when I'm not listening.
She convinced me that
they must be lying,
because who
would bother actually trying
to be friends with me?
Why is she so worried
about me
and what others think?
Why do I decide
she is the one
worth trusting?
Loneliness,
at the same time,
sobs that I cannot live
without anyone,
even those who
would willingly
hurt me.
She claws onto
the others,
despairingly,
whimpering,
worried that they
might try to flee,
wishing to call them
just to not be
alone.
Yet she knows,
even with others around,
she and her fears
can still be found,
within me.
Her tears dry,
at the very sight
of someone smiling
my way,
as if that
could take her away.
She begins to bawl,
the moment I get home,
because no one
ever stops by
or calls my phone.
And sometimes,
I wonder why
I rarely ever try
to call,
until I remember
that I could never
enthrall
anyone enough
to spend time with me.
This cocktail
of misery
seems only to be
isolating
and
mutilating,
but I can't seem
to stop drinking,
to stop sinking
into these extremes.
YOU ARE READING
My Voice
PoetryPoems meant to express things I can't always bring myself to say, emotions that run so deep in my veins, and thoughts that hang over my head. I hope you can enjoy this, or find something that makes you feel less alone at the very least. Many of thes...
