Lately, it seems to me that my thoughts on mental illness have been getting louder and louder. My intuition is telling me to figure it out. I’m scared, I will admit. I just can’t stop thinking about it.
Old poem from last year:
These thoughts keep repeating.
My head starts shrieking,
Another migraine from clenched teeth.
My eyes are tired and worry some but I can’t rest.
Too many ideas wreaking havoc on my sensitive mind.
I can’t quite grasp what’s keeping me in this cycle.
Why so much pressure?
Why so much fear?
I don’t know. And every answer revealed is unclear.
This one is untitled:
Just when life is going so well, the panic ignites so something can go completely wrong.
I’m so tired of feeling exhausted of all of my emotions.
What do I do to cure these never ending fears?
Just breathe, I’m told.
Ha! Easier said than done, fools.
This anxious brain never gives up.
It breaks me down…piece by piece, until it reaches my core.
The sweet sound of silence,
The taste of cinnamon lingers in my mouth.
I feel as if I can rule the world,
Five-nineteen in the morning and not a soul making a sound.
Time to relax,
Time to ponder.
Time to read,
Time to believe.