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Clear like muddy water,
fluid, but opaque,
is my mind.
With each capsule that I swallow,
I get more and more,

Prescriptions as if I need them.
Needing them as though I'm broken.
Maybe I am,
Maybe I am,

Shattered as glass cracks.
In other words,
it doesn't.
Instead, it breaks into countless pieces,
never to be fixed again.

Oh, I'd give anything to be fixed again.
I'd give anything,
to feel clear again.
While I don't take medication for mental health, I do feel foggy and confused by my feelings a lot of the time.
I'm running at full speed.
At first, my feet just slide as if on ice,
but eventually,
I gain traction for the run of my life.

The cold when causes my hairs to raise,
and my eyes start to water.
I feel a stream of cold water run down my left cheek,
unknowing that this is the true path to my destiny.

I start to slow down and come to a stop.
I listen for a sound, and feel the drop.
My body goes numb as I flail in the air.
I'm thinking to myself,
"How is this fair?"

All I wanted was to feel again,
all I wanted was to be okay again.
I stop flailing,
and take a look around.

I see a man across the void of black that is my mindscape.
I attempt to call to him,
as my thoughts grow dim.
I think to myself,
"This is my fate."

My eyes shut with a slam,
as a man calls out,
"No! Not again!"

I hear his shout and fight to open my eyes.
Now, he's standing before me - wise.
He says,
"Get up. Your fight is far from over.
Get up. If not for me, then for her."

I will my body into motion.
Suddenly, there is no wind,
there is no fight.
Suddenly, I have the power of flight.

I awake in a hospital,
with my wife before me.
I feel a wave of shock come over - and epiphany.

I was running from the sorrow in my mind.
I was running, in an attempt,
to get back to my wife.

With this epiphany I lunge forward,
embracing my wife, whom I missed.
Then, I notice the marks on my wrist.
Short story about a man attempting suicide.
  Apr 30 The Unsung Song
There was a time when I was broken
When I was down and waiting out
Watching others wear my crown
And waiting silently in wings

A folded self just asking why
Trusting in healing found in years of time

I outwaited all those demons  
Turned my enemies to friends
And then for ages, they looked on
As we won again, and again, and again

Sometimes you are the only problem
Sometimes the time is all you need
Sometimes the losses build the victor
No dynasty is meant to be

You have to make it
Enough is enough.
I'm done sitting in a room of darkness.
I'm done shouting into the void of black.
I want the world to see me for who I am.
For without the controversy of a feeling man,
I would not be what I am.

Enough is enough.
I want the world to see,
what I was meant to be.
I want my creativity,
to pour and pour out of me.
For without the controversy of a creative man,
I would not be what I am.

Enough is enough.
I need the world to relinquish me,
from this undying epiphany.
This epiphany which tells me,
that I am nothing without my pen.
I am this pen,
and this pen is I.
Bleeding ink to page,
while I figure out what next to write.
As though there is nothing to do,
but write.
For without the controversy of a passionate man,
I would not be what I am.

When enough is enough,
you suddenly become,
good enough.
I've been struggling with self-worth lately. Writing about it helps a lot. While in this writing session, I've learnt that I need to accept myself for who I am, instead of letting other people's opinions define me.
I understand what it means to hurt.
I understand the feeling of blood dripping,
until you don't feel the pain of life.
Yet, I don't understand what I should do.
What am I to do,
when I see scars on my friend's arm?
What am I to do,
when I see someone else swerve the car?
What am I to do,
when I feel like I'm the only person,
still trying to love?
Shed a tear
Release all signs of fear
encase my heart
With sadness as I depart
Visual laminations
My mind sees bright observations

So Lay Me Down!
With sword in hand
give me my mighty crown
As I myself, deuterate to sand
Let my love go on
Shall be shown with my face
My tears
Up high fears
Leave me to repent
For all hate that I am
I consent
For I am to blame
Life is at my fingertips.
I have ever decision to make on my own.
I can do anything and everything,
yet I've never felt so alone.
I want the control taken from me,
but I want to feel in control.
It sounds bipolar, and vague,
but truthfully,
I want nothing but to lay in bed.
I want to ponder on hours on end,
without thinking of what might've been.
My life lies at the edge of the world,
where no one dares to approach.
Still, I must venture on,
and somehow,
make my legacy be told.
I'm going away for college soon and I know what I want to do, but I don't know if it's smart or the right thing.
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