Friday, April 5, 2013
I do not laugh. I do not cry.
I tried to be the best of all,
Stay strong - stand tall.
But wellness weary gets to me.
I do not care. I do not see.
I want what I just cannot have -
Some kind of healing salve.
I used to live off the high
I didn’t pause. I didn’t try.
Then I’d give in to the low
No need to do - nowhere to go.
And voices kept me locked inside
I tried to ignore them to get by.
But the paranoia still took hold.
As if my thoughts were bought and sold.
Day by day it’s now the same.
No more excuses. No more games.
And what it feels like, quiet, still,
Is that all this calm has sapped my will.
There’s no more here than what I make:
No pain, but my heart still breakes.