Year: 2016
(72 days after diagnosis)
It's all so desperate
All the feelings and emptiness
The feelings desperate for attention
For someone to understand them
Someone to emotionalize with them
The emptiness desperate for feelings
For pain and sorrow
For happiness and joy
The tortured soul
Trying to change, waiting around
To feel something different
Trying to fight the pain of feeling nothing with all you got.
But seeing no result
No change
Nothing happening
Nothing happened
You are just as empty, craving for pain
Trying to carve, finding, searching, groping to find a heart, an emotion other than this.
Desperate for an expression other than this.
Desperate enough to peel, burn, cut the life out of your soulless body.
Every time you take a knife to your skin,
You hope it holds all the answers
But there's nothing but blood.
Desperate soul, tortured soul.
That's what I am.
It's all desperate.
I am so, so desperate to ditch this tortured soul on me.
YOU ARE READING
We Are the Normal Ones: Memoirs of a Fallen Human
PoetryWhat goes on inside the mentally stricken mind?
