Poetic Just This

8 08 2011

I’m not big on poetry, it’s fair to say, I just don’t really feel any affinity to it as a way to communicate my thoughts. For others it’s good and I’ve read some good stuff before. Bearing all this in mind, I’ll be damned if I know where the following came from. Just goes to show the mind is a funny thing. Especially mine.

Bedtime Story

Here I lay upon my bed
With those thoughts going through my head
Of perceived opportunities missed in the past
Of how long this life will actually last
I close my eyes shutting out the light
And I visualise how I might
Find solace at the end of some rope
Finally some peace at last I hope

Yet here I lie, still on my bed
Wishing no tears to ever be shed
Of my passing it may be said
That truly I am better off dead
For life had shown some signs of kindness
But most of all it had shown me this
That you are alone in your own mind
For peace is something I struggle to find

And still I’m lying here on my bed
And all these words you have read
Are they real? Who could say
Because my depression has it’s way
Of making it just thoughts and dreams
Having been robbed it would seem
Of the ability to carry it out and end this pain
God I wish I had antidepressants again

So here I lie, still on my bed




One response

9 08 2011
Rachael Black

Good poem, tell is all. LOVE the last line! hahahahahaha.
Have been busy the last few weeks having a manoc episode. NOt the kind of my usual type -which is dysphoric- but a REAL kind, which I haven’t had in 15 years.
Am far behind on reading blogs… but gee my house is immaculate -grin-.

Likin’ the poem. Usually can only stand Bukowski’s poetry.

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