I did it! There are no messages in my inbox. Tomorrow I will accept the nominations I received and read some of the blogs that piqued my interest and get to posting something new. In the mean time here’s a little snack.
Note the date on this poem it was written before I knew I was sick. the first symptom I was having was oversensitive. I don’t feel this way now.
Depression is the expression for those who have high expectations.
Buried in the bowels of misery, heartache and pain a repeated history.
Popped my vitamins, and washed them down with a spirited shot.
Swallowed words to preserved delicate feelings,
My voice is silenced by a bully
Who don’t give a fuck, cause their views are true,
Mines are stupid and out the box.
Out the box, the one that enclosed my deepest thoughts,
Protected by masking tape and rope
then stored in a corner.
Camouflaged under piles of forgotten shit.
Lost in a sea of a hazy blue hue.
A sip of the spirited shot, cut with salted tears.
Pulled off the nicotine patch,
Fill my lungs with the fuel for a heart attack,
Slow suicide a better decision I decide,
Suffering I’ve became a mastering in hiding.
Who the fuck cares
It ain’t the ones I hold dear,
They don’t even notice, my fragile state,
That I can either shatter,
Then they’ll wanna know why.