Maybe a poem, or just my messed up thoughts

I stare at the white ceiling,
It’s dull, but a bulb sits in the middle;
Light is shone when needed.
It’s still a dull, white ceiling.

There’s not much to look at,
My room is a metaphor for how my life is.
How did it get this bad, I swear I straightened things out a few weeks ago?
I’m losing my mind, as well as everything I own.

My pillow is wet, encrusted with the bitter drops of my sadness. I could wring my pillow out and create a river of my thoughts.

Where did everything go wrong?
Why did I mess everything up?

I just can’t cope anymore.
Life is a struggle,
It’s not what I hoped for.

The glass on the table reminds me to take my happy pills.
What’s the point? They’re not even working!
Shall I take the packet and just see how different life on the other side really is?

I doubt I’m going to heaven, but I don’t care as longs as I’m sleeping.
Someone please, give me a release.
I’m dying on the inside, so why can’t I die on the outside?

If you were to pick me up and shake me,
You would hear my soul rattle.

Advertisements

One thought on “Maybe a poem, or just my messed up thoughts

  1. “i could wring my pillow out and create a river of my thoughts”
    That line is beautiful. There are so many good metaphors in this thing! I demand that you write more. As for happy pills, make sure that others don’t work better or that your dose isn’t too low.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s