It has been quite a while since I have written.
I'm guessing that's partly because I have been so busy
Fighting my mind
And confronting my insanity.
I guess it's paying off though.
I feel a little happier,
Or at least accomplished.
It isn't the fake kind of happiness either,
It's the kind that is earned by working hard
And suffering through madness.
My only real problem right now is that I also feel lost and numb.
I feel like I don't really know myself,
Like I'm a stranger.
What I do know is my illness.
That is who I've been for so long,
I don't know or remember what else is there
Or if there is anything else.
Who I really am or could be
Scares me more than any thought,
Prowler, or hallucination my mind could concoct.
Reality scares me more than any delusion,
And that fear is what kept me from writing.
There is a sense of humor in this little poem that shines through. Keep writing!
Fear of the unknown, fear of becoming and yet before us it all lays and beyond our deeper ken and contrived interferece, will be what it will be. Poetry is the great therapy, if there is madness there is energy and an often contrary or different view from the supposedly sane world. Continue to write, take a stand, listen to the news, get passionate, get angry, give both literary barrels and contribute to the world and you will soon realize your brand of crazy is essential to bring clarity and another voice in a far crazier world.
This poem really captures the emotion of a writer stuck in a very terrible rut - one that hits me VERY colostomy to home. The description of your state ring of honesty, and it takes the poem to a new level. In other words, I loved it! ^.^
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sanity is a country I dont have a visa for, I really good write, with several lines that ring home to me. Regards