Laying on a bed in Urgent Care
Life stops seeming to be so fair,
Not that it could be or ever was,
But I’d kept telling myself this because
It was easier than facing myself.

Oh God but this is such a journey
-- Thoughts from on top a gurney --
I feel like death and want to die,
God, life sure is one hell of a ride:
I’m looking for the nearest exit.

Life’s normal denizens keep striding by,
Too far to hear my strangled reply.
If I could possess them for my own,
I would leave them behind in my body sewn
So they could drink of my daily delirium.

I’m sorry, is the bitter too loud?
Sometimes my anger I will no longer enshroud.
I keep it under wraps to protect the people best,
Lest they know how hard I am pressed
To keep myself from snapping.

I will not lie, it angers me so:
To see myself disabled while others glow.
I hate to be pretentious but I was told
That the world was mine to hold.
My desolate hands lust in silence.

But I am tired, worn, and low;
I will fall away from this anger’s afterglow.
I will sink back down away from this
Inspiration will become another game of hit and miss.
The waiting game begins again.

The walls will keep me secure and cold
And as always I will stay controlled.
And yet you, oh God from up above,
Could I learn to look on you with Love?
This heart is ice and needs some tenderness.