Once I wrote of the strife I felt watching us trap each other within a cell of our own undoing.
Now I sing of another cell occupied by me alone.
Within this cell I shove my empty. My lonely. My souls refuse.
The bargaining chips of which I threw down were found to be lacking as I always am. I watch my guards rumble by daily at their post but somehow empty.
My own eyes watching my eyes watch them in a matter of speaking. The watched always are beaten by the watchers but here the watched watch the watcher with the same empty soulless eyes. Slits of bars all you can see.
This too is my prison eyes
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Poems for the Mentally Damaged
Poésiea collection of poems I'm constantly working on. For those who know the suffering of mental health issues and those who humor my simple way of coping which is of course to write more poems to relate to from my darkest and saddest to the hopes of a y...
