Scattered Pieces Of The Puzzle Poem by Vishal Sharma

All these demons in my head keep me
nailed down to the bed, it's like they
won't stop til I'm dead, what do they
want from me? All the signs I see
outside, taking nothing said in stride,
cuts and bruises on my pride, it all
comes naturally. Spilling vomit from
my mind, sitting idly biding time, self
expression's such a crime, they scream
it's blasphemy. Your religion is a lie,
but you won't ask yourself why, where
do we go when we die? Someone
answer me.