Troubled


Some people say my momma had a blessing, but the people
in my head be yelling something different.
Always doubting everything I may be destined,
because the voices in my head say I'm unavailing.
My own enemy is me, but you'll never witness the battles
that I fight daily dealing with this sickness.
Trying to keep it under wraps, cant seem like a victim,
but it's hard to stay sane when your mind be tripping.
Ups and downs we all get them, but mine are different,
my lowest low will take me out; yeah no longer living.
Suicidal thoughts are frequent in the head I live in.
I can't even count on one hand how many times it was attempted.
Searching high and low for answers,
but I never get them. The only thing I get is pills
with a padded room to sit in.
Do I speak about it, no that's out of fear of judgement.
Because what others may not understand
turn to side discussions.
Side discussions turn to weird looks when
I'm seen in public, then I become that crazy person
that nobody touches.
I just want what's in the norm, whatever that means,
tired of living like lunatic, or so it seems.
I wish that could get my mind back to myself,
but it's been gone so long that I may need some help.
It's gotten to the point where I no longer know myself,
so I'm just floating through life until my last breath.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem