They've got it made
For the winners in this world
The less fortunate souls
Have to play the role
of the tragedy known as Deacon Blues
and yes I know that's a reference to a song
But like the Crimson tide, this poem shall roll on
The haves truly have, and the knots are tired by the Chains of lack and want
But you might say "if you want to be better than work harder. "
"Why are you so irresponsible with your money ,how will you feed your daughter?"

I don't even have kids and I know the feeling of desperation all too well
It's like burning constantly reheated hell
Why? Why? Why do I reek of failures distinct smell?
I'm a good person, or at least I try to be
But.
.

..

Why am I fated to lose?

If I had something inspiring on my mind don't you think that I would've written it by now
I love being a writer but sometimes it gets me down
The pressure escalates like the water in the everglades to top myself, like pulling miracles out of my head is a miraculous act
I can't turn water into wine And I can't turn stacks of hay into clever punchlines
I guess what I'm trying to say, like Dr. Mccoy  is that I'm a writer not a magician
I can only take what myself and others have gone through, and turn it into something relatable, that maybe just maybe someone will take something positive out of what was written

It's looking as though my head is a prankster
You know
Because I'll think one thing, and unintentionally say another
Sort of like faking being asleep by hiding underneath covers
It's not clever or original and it's driving me crazy
I'll not feel pain but the over analysis from my brain makes the space behind my eyes hazy
Lately I've been having this same **** dream
I keep waking up in a straitjacket and I'm close to bursting at the seams
But then I hear a voice, and I'm not sure who it is
It calms me back down, and the madness subsides and I begin to return to my wits
But then the voice leaves and I'm running down the hall, door to door and corner to corner.
It's ****** up when your mind is playing tricks on you

I let my mind wander,
And I don't think it came back

I let my heart travel, and it suffered from constant attack

I let my mouth run away, and it's still not returned to this day

I watched my legs abandon me
And my arms crawled into the sea
Totally independent of me

But, losing all these things taught me a very simple and poignant lesson

Appreciate what you have before it's gone, because what you take for granted someone wants and isn't afraid to deal with some stressing

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self. Therefore, trust the physician and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility." - Khalil Gibran

That quote inspired what I wrote because pain is a constant in this cruel world
And in all reality our pain is inspired by the struggles we've gone through, so it may not be easy but to medicate and starting the process of healing is on you.  Others may have caused what you're going through but it's up to you to make it better, because even if it's raining now there's always a chance for better weather