Visions from the past,
race before my eyes
like parts on the factory line.
Over these past few years,
oh how I've changed.
I gave up on a lot of something,
ended up with a lot of nothing.

I've left my brain,
scarred and burnt,
now these somber words are all that remain.
They remain the one way to keep sane.
Warriors to the cerebral pain that challenge me
day to day.

Contemplated verses on all I've learnt.
trimmed thin through all the **** smoke
I can't see the end, I've been blinded by the trend
Every passing cough and choke carves another notch,
my troubles are a joke.

On the grander scheme of things,
my ordeals seem small and petty.
How selfish must I truly be to actually believe
that I have it worse than anyone else.

At least I can see, breath and speak,
eat all I can eat, without worrying about
whether or not I'll have food next week.

How this sense of selfishness and selflessness make me weak.
The guilt of the contradictions amongst my convictions,
make it all the more difficult to speak my disturbed mind.
Self-constructed illusions of altruism and egotism
always end up in indefinite confusion.

This literal mess passed off as poetry,
is a perfect example of the train wreck
the doctors dubbed so eloquently: My Mind.

What a waste of time.