I have learned not to meddle in these melancholic meadows
Yet it's difficult not to when my mind walks down these eerie hallways during such ungodly hours
Praying, wishing, and hoping that a magic bullet
Will suddenly appear out of nowhere
And accidentally bump into my head,
For I have learned to be at peace with my illnesses
To let these obsessive thoughts order me about
"Wash your hands once, twice, and thrice,"
These thoughts scamper in my head like mice
"Change your clothes four, five? No! Six times!"
They render my soldiers helpless and strangled with vines,
For I have learned that my illnesses
Rarely ever leaves
Maybe they go on a group vacation
But they come back as soon as I heave
"One cut, two cuts, three cuts, four!"
What else would they want more?
"Five cuts, six cuts, seven cuts, eight!"
They shout in excitement at my blade of self-hate
"Nine cuts No wait! Tie this around your neck and suffocate!"
Coughs escape as I lose my senses to my numbing fate,
For I have learned that attempting to fight - will end with death
Yet I still do fight...
I fight my death wish
By not fighting my illnesses.
YOU ARE READING
wandering dandelions #wattys2018
PoetryA collection of poems about depression, love, and sometimes random things. Please help this lonely af individual feel less alone on this bleak planet called Earth. I'm literally melting off my couch from boredom. The cover was conjured by the magica...
