Fire scorches the flesh
An opaque wash fills my sockets
A coarse guttural scream is fresh
From lashed sole to soul it devours
Stench of decay is all ones sovereign
Humanity what is thought hierarchy
Is now looked into foul n ' foriegn
Excuse me... as I dispose of my ivory entity
"What seems to be the issue today?"
A common installment conversed
Everything checked out but mentally
Well your going need some help, okay?
Anyways people your age suffer from all the same thing
Little does this doctor know this ain't the reason why I'm panicking
As soon as your diagnosed its like a big fat sign saying
"B R O K E N"
I'm going to recommend you a therapist,
one to help you take care of this.
One session of fake tears, blaming it all on my dad's absenceless
.... Suddenly, I'm well again.
Doctors really don't know they aren't able to even comprehend
Patting each other on their backs as a
"Congratualtions on your patient ."
As you sit back relinquishing your freedom, of your own minds to it's own depth.
This is on the subject of forced therapy. It will never truly work unless the person wants help. Or is 100% open to it. All people deal with life and situations differently. It will just create resentment too future treatment. :) also I don't know how to even poetry .
One day I'll fly
So fast that no one will see me
No one but I will expect it
When my skull is unidentifiable awry
Dont cry, I dont want the empty tears
My pain was in my blank smile
My plucked feathers
The ones I used to smother the loneliness eating me alive
To see each bird die
With my lonely cry "Why.."
I'm sorry, I am not a gifted poet or even an amateur.
— The End —