My head is a prison,
A pendulum
Of my
Problems.
A cauldron,
To brew my troubles
In.
A cell, with
Only room to
Respire.
My limbs ache
So does my middle,
I wish to be as fit as a fiddle.
So I fiddle with my body,
Well.. my mind does.
But my hands make those torturous strokes.
I ache.
Stomachaches and Headaches.
I say there to ruminate.
My head is a prison,
Dare I say my decision.
Or rather a compulsion.
It's not really any fun.
With facial features for bars,
And skin for a guard,
This prison of mine,
Isn't quite benign.
I turned the volume down,
But still, the thoughts resound.
I'm trapped within my own mind,
Is there something for me to find?
Each flaw presented articulately,
my brain is being particularly,
Picky.
Picky with each scar and my skin,
Dark as tar, picky with my soul,
Old but not cold.
That ball of tissue inside my skull,
Feels nothing but dull. With the IQ of a genius but the EQ of a rock.
My body is a prison,
Home to the rat called my stomach
Feeding off itself.
I should probably get something from the shelf.
But I can't, I'm trapped within myself.
A shadow, a barely breathing carcass left.
My childhood friends never left,
Ana, Annie, Addie and Perry,
I really loved watching episodes with Jerry.
Izzy, Cat, Deb and Sue,
They've been around alot too.
My body is a prison,
I wish I had poison,
I'd leave this prison for good.
With faltering steps,
Padding on the floor.
I'm unsure I can take much more.
I'm not guilty,
Of any crimes,
I've written my life in rhymes.
My body is a prison,
One I do not wish to stay in.
Pass the poison,
I'll imagine its gin.
YOU ARE READING
recollection.
PoetryPoems written by yours truly. From points of view that aren't always my own. They're all written by me, just written about different perspectives. Please dont claim these as your own... Trigger warning: One or more of these poems contain mature co...
