PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I hate this fucked brain.

I hate my scars.  This scarred up spirit is shit.

All I do is cause problems.  Maybe it is best I am gone.

My older sister talking me down.  My brother,  best friend, he encourages me to stay.

Both saying they need me.  I am inspiration.

My lovely wife says I need to focus here and now.  To focus on my son.

Another fine mess.   So what I haven't done shit?

Okay we will dance and then be cranky.

This isn't what I want.  All I am doing is stressing you.

No.  Maybe if i just hop on a bus and disappeared.

I rattle the pills in their bottles.  I hold them in my hands.

I am feeling fragile.  I am lost.  I am feeling exhausted.

Can I just give up all ready?

Such love making me pause in my choice.

Dancing on the lip of madness.  I weep.  I feel a hand in my hair.

Yes, I will check in and be truthful....

I am tired of this fight none want to understand.

None want to hear the death wish pleads.

Society of me first mortality.  Society of what will I get out of it?

America is dying.  I am dying a slow death.

My love brings me with her to work.  I try art, and nothing.

So glad appointment is today.  Lack of art is sign of serious wrong within....

"Be truthful.  Tell them everything that needs to be said if it will help you."

Yes, my love.  Though at first I didn't,  but in the meeting with the doctor I share my secret.

Doc, I have been having suicide thoughts.  This is not me.  I usually just run away, and come back later.....