May 2013
Maybe I am crazy;
maybe the things I think,
the things I feel,
aren't thought or felt by others.
Maybe I'm a different species,
an alien from a distant frame of mind.
Why do these walls close in on me?
why can't I hear myself scream?
Why do I find death to be a solace,
a hope when it all gets to be too much?
Why do I love people who never love me back?
When will I break?
When will I fall?
maybe the things I think,
the things I feel,
aren't thought or felt by others.
Maybe I'm a different species,
an alien from a distant frame of mind.
Why do these walls close in on me?
why can't I hear myself scream?
Why do I find death to be a solace,
a hope when it all gets to be too much?
Why do I love people who never love me back?
When will I break?
When will I fall?
As you can probably tell, this poem is kind of scattered and all over the place. I made it this way because it reminded me of the way a person's mind works; how we can think of something one second, and shift over to something else immediately after. I thought about what an insane person feels, whether or not they know or realize that they're insane, and if they do, when it will end.
