I squander my time
I wander and wind between the pillars of despair in my mind
crawling my way through mazes made by “Phases” in my mind
trying my best to find out what it means to be normal.
I hear that storm calling out all the time
thunderclouds battering my mind
the darkness that rolls in on all sides.
My smiles come and go with the tides
betting my life on rolls of a dice.

Who is it that deicides that I have to feel this way?
Who is it that decides the worth of my life?
who is it that decides I should feel this pain, or behave astray or be taken away
from my mum: when I was young.
I don’t have the power to be okay,
I don’t have the power to end my days
or let go of my pain.

why can’t I be like them?
why can’t I think about cars and tv?
why do I think of stars and poetry,
or the feel of wet grass beneath my feet?