Poetry Anthology

struggle

I'm struggling to function like a normal human being in society.
I'm struggling to be right, to be the opposite of what I am now.
I'm struggling for sanity, sense, for purpose.
I don't know who I am, what I stand for, where I belong.
An when I do I've only deluded myself to believe a certain thing out of habit.
Nothing is clear, everything is blurry.
My thoughts have no order and they are neither sensible, many I can no longer hear.
I no longer know how to sift through lies and truth.
The only thing grounding me is what's familiar, it helps me delude myself further.
I'm only a shell, not even of what I used to be because that wasn't much.
And the major difference between what people see an what I see when I see myself has me baffled. I no longer know the truth.
I've begun to feel nothing and silenced turmoil.
My health is nothing short of perfect but the inside of myself deteriorates rapidly.
I don't trust myself, nor do I trust anything living.
I don't really believe in anything.
I just keep appearances for normalcy.
I'm a living contradiction, a living lie, a living mistake.
And I wish nothing more than to be a dead mistake.
One that no one remembers, one that ceases to exist.
It's either that or I'm a lying psychotic bitch.
Does this qualify for poetry or is it just a piecing together of bullshit.
All I know is that I'm silently losing my mind.
It's so raw, so real...

-M