Sep 18
I'm all alone,
Once again...
My empty home is
Devoid of friends.
Still, some, they call,
Or show at odd hours,
To share a few drinks,
Or maybe some flower.
It's been a year, or
Nearly two,
Since I've left this house
With something to do.
My skin has gone pale;
It's deathly white,
It's been so long since
I've seen sunlight,
The sun feels so bright,
That star from afar,
Still I shun its gift,
And it shows with the sight.
Of me.
I can't explain why I
Simply stay inside,
Instead of living life,
Taking things in stride.
But still I rise with dry eyes,
And unlike some,
I feel a peace.
A freedom to choose
Whether to rise,
Or follow my
Wild heartbeat.
Once again...
My empty home is
Devoid of friends.
Still, some, they call,
Or show at odd hours,
To share a few drinks,
Or maybe some flower.
It's been a year, or
Nearly two,
Since I've left this house
With something to do.
My skin has gone pale;
It's deathly white,
It's been so long since
I've seen sunlight,
The sun feels so bright,
That star from afar,
Still I shun its gift,
And it shows with the sight.
Of me.
I can't explain why I
Simply stay inside,
Instead of living life,
Taking things in stride.
But still I rise with dry eyes,
And unlike some,
I feel a peace.
A freedom to choose
Whether to rise,
Or follow my
Wild heartbeat.
This poem is literally how I've been living lately. I rarely leave my house; when I've gone outside, I notice that my skin is so white I can see the veins now. Yeah. My mental issues have gotten worse; I can't work. Dealing with people is pretty hard, meds or not. But I still get up every morning, and sometimes, there's still friends who support me.
