Cherry cough drops numb
The trickling tickle
Running down my throat,
But not the prickling tickling,
Scratching at my mind.
Pretty pink pills
Stop the frustrating flow
Dripping down from my nose
But not the unending flood
Of tears drowning me.
Pointy precautious needles jabbed
Deep into my skin
Can shield all my insides
But cannot penetrate
My dastardly, darkening mind.
Whole and healthy,
Don't you think?
I don't look or act
Terribly sick,
Do I?
No, not that
Dreadful, dreadful word:
Sick.
I don't moan and groan,
Limp or trip,
Or grow excessively weak...
But my miserable mind
Can churn my stomach,
Beat my heart,
And sew shut my throat.
Sometimes I'm tired
For no reason at all,
On the verge
Of simply collapsing,
But I'm not sick...
Right?
No.
Of course not.
It's all wrapped
Neatly inside my
Perfectly packaged brain.
YOU ARE READING
Random Thoughts
PoetryThis is kind of just my brain and random thoughts I feel like sharing with someone in the middle of the night. Don't take any of it for more than it is because I'm always fine. Also, please don't judge the whole book by the first few poems. I promis...
