Manic, restless, speak the truth

I remember the days of having a prime directive

The forward motion of my life insured beyond doubt

I had a line to tow me in if the tide of the world grew too strong

and a jumble of arms to fall into if the fear overtook me

 

Realizing just now that those times are ending

I wonder if the lilt of love I knew was all pretending

If the training wheels that made me feel that I could trust in them

Had really been an ugly spin on parental pretension

 

I hate the way I can't rely on anything I hear

The broken glass, my foggy past, the lies, the pain and tears

Maybe I'm stupid

Maybe I'm mistaken

Maybe my hormones are fudging my perception

Maybe my folks have something figured out and I will never know what their protection was about

and birds in my heart will never sing out loud but there is a pleasant fountain in my fingers that may spout

A river of profanities, a sprinkling of obscenities, and quite a healthy dollop of simpering complacency

It makes me speak the words I should have hidden deep inside

But maybe that's the way the gods have chosen to preside

Maybe I'm condemned to eternal damnation

I hope I'm not really alone

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741