My mind has a stomach ache
My mind has a fever
My mind is crying me awake
My mind is a leaver
My skull is filled with water
Water 30 some odd feet deep
My brain is getting hotter
Boiling out the sleep
My brain is encaged
With eyes of inevitable disaster
My mind feels enraged
Ny head's beating faster
My mind is gagging
Throwing up waste and rot
My brain seems to be lagging
For hurling it never has not
My illness plays on repeat
Through dreams or future songs
My sickness sings a harsh beat
And never rights its wrongs
My brain has a congestive heart
And is slowly starting to drown
The peices are quickly pulling apart
Digging into me my crown
My mind has been sick for ages
You won't see a tear on these pages
I won't cry over something gone on so long
When the series if events is so impossibly wrong
YOU ARE READING
The Weeping Woods
PoetryAgony in the form of stanzas, words in the form of little silent cries. I made the cover but I don't own any of the pictures. !There's also quite a bit of explicit language!
