PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Up all night again, sick of yourself.

Short breaths plague the black captivity.

You wish it could be back to normal,

Or at least degrade to a lesser severity.

Previous occurrences have moon light blood,

Now all to feel is the soft red warmness.

Consciousness progresses further into night;

Ending in moonlight becomes end in darkness.

Thoughts infect, searing pain in my brain;

My tolerance but a memory now digressing.

I can't take any more, I'm going insane;

Madness dragging me down, always progressing.

Paranoia, an occurrence so often wanted gone,

Is raging in my mind like it never has before.

Thinking situations and conclusions so wrong,

I'm sick, done, not tolerating this anymore.

A handful of pills, a quick bullet to my brain,

Or maybe a therapist, to tell me I'm insane.

It's hard to go on when you're barely alive;

It's hard to live when you're never recognized.