People never write poems about this
yet it exists
This unability to exist
this intricated maze of meanings and beings
this path of walls and ***** games
this emptiness that's made up
this storm
this headache
this deaf pain
this state of mind
this hell inside
that's cold to ever write
about
This is what it feels like
being unable to relax
because you got lost
in your own paths
you tried to drive home
but home slipped away
you broke home
home broke itself
but home today feels far
Heart, where are you now?
Mind, why do you do these things?
Impair my hearing
of the world
Jun 11, 2017
Jun 11, 2017 at 6:01 PM UTC
People never write poems about this
yet it exists
This unability to exist
this intricated maze of meanings and beings
this path of walls and ***** games
this emptiness that's made up
this storm
this headache
this deaf pain
this state of mind
this hell inside
that's cold to ever write
about
This is what it feels like
being unable to relax
because you got lost
in your own paths
you tried to drive home
but home slipped away
you broke home
home broke itself
but home today feels far
Heart, where are you now?
Mind, why do you do these things?
Impair my hearing
of the world
A very complicated poem about certain sensations of my mental illness. OCD-schizotypal like thoughts and behavior.
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