No medication's ever made them stop,
All I think about is everything I'm not,
I yearn to be different, with some silence,
I can't fake no more smiles,
This drives me mad as well as sad,
I hate to hang there all alone the whole night,
I think my hope is a broken lens,
I can't see through.
My smiles are patched,
Like a torn and punctured tube,
Just like my thoughts,
They are stitched up,
Hi, my anxiety attacks are large and vast,
I think they are like an alternate universe,
One that is existing in my head.
My shattering self with a predilection of silence,
I'm fractured and my feet are tired,
They've been running for a very long time,
I wake up with tears,
Mostly streaking my cheeks at night,
I'm guilty of my own desires.
My thoughts stimulate my pain,
Probably I'm bruising old wounds,
Maybe broken shells,
But I like broken things,
They remind me of myself,
How perfect I was,
Can I rebuild my hiding place,
It keeps me alive from this fear,
Fear of the world.
I am in an anarchy and my mind is the anarchist,
They give me demons,
Those you see vividly,
They are from my dreams,
My memories,
I know I'm living a lie,
A fallacy that seems real like a Tuesday chocolate,
One that never melts until midnight,
In any way they never last, it all breaks.
kg_asare_🎈
YOU ARE READING
PsychoDrama and Terrors🥀
PoesíaI'm talking to myself and I hope I'm listening, I'm juggling the inside and outside heavy, I'm keeping it from falling apart, I'm holding it together just by a strand, One day it will rip of from my palm, together with a tear or two but now, let...
