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Mar 2018
Poetry is pain.
I only have words when
I can't take the strain.
In the day to day
when I can't complain,
then I feel nothing  
and have nothing to say.
The same ten thoughts on a loop,
the same old shtick-
This is just as effective
as a doctor's anaesthetic,
for numbing the mind.
I dose up till I stop feeling sick.
As much as I hate it,
I'll keep playing the game,
running thoughts over and over
endless cycle in my brain.
I am useless when I'm fine,
tragically boring when I'm sane,
because I only have words
when I'm madly in pain.
Written by
depth deprived  18/F
(18/F)   
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