I squander my time
I wander and wind between pillars of despair in my mind
crawling my way through mazes of  “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,
the darkness that rolls on all sides.
My smiles go with the tides

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