The Source Poem by Nate Ritchie

I finally understand
The source of the anger I fail to withstand.
For this moment, it is clear.
Not for long, I fear.

My mind will, again, fall within its reach.
Like a blood sucking leech,
Madness will thirst upon my brain,
It will consume my very being - I will go insane.

Part of the issue is this place.
It stimulates the challenges I face.
It is not so much the location itself,
But the people, who jeopardize my health.

I cannot trust a single one.
They plot against me for fun,
Or so I believe.
Myself, I often do deceive.

Though I know it is not so,
I feel I am about to blow
From excess anxiety.
I cannot function in this society.

I reach out to friends .
This would be fine,
But I question whether they are really there.
If they are, do they really care?

Could I be imagining it all
While into eternal darkness, I fall?
Are any of them real?
So much uncertainty! My scalp, I want to peel!

Maybe I truly am alone.
That, I think I have always known.
If only these pretenders were gone.
Then, I would not feel like a helpless pawn.

Yes, I am but a clown
Because the reason for my frown
Is my own frivolous confusion,
A plague of senseless delusion.

I am fading in and out of reality.
I cannot maintain a single mentality.
I hate what is happening to me,
But I cannot seem to break free.

I need help - for my sake,
But when everyone is perceived evil or fake,
What can I do
Except feel angry and blue?

I have fought for so long
Against what is wrong.
I am growing weak,
Blindly pursuing the peace I seek.

I know my friends would undertake the task.
They would do more than I could ever ask,
Even though I have grown gloomy and sour.
I, however, have to win by my own power.

I do not even know if those close to me exist.
No, I have to raise my own fist.
I need to fight harder than ever now,
Though I do not know how.

I cannot let it take control
Of my waning soul.
I cannot succumb to its temptation
If I am ever to find salvation.

Of my sorrow, there is no direct source.
It is a plethora of woes contriving a vulgar force.
Although, there is one important truth
I keep buried in my youth.

These elements enter the realm of culmination;
A place of creation and devastation.
Where the monsters who bring me dread
Are nourished and bred.