SenileA Poem by pinhead07Barely able to breathe. Grinding my teeth. I light one more cigarette. To plain talk to people, I don't have the intellect. I keep running, sunrise, sunset. Keeping my brain blank so I don't get upset. When they ask me how my day's been, I just stare at them. Searching for words. "Great!" I say. Eyes full of tears, they plain plaster on a grin. They tell me there's nothing wrong with me. That I need to quit the meds. They tell me to live my life happily. I nod my head absently. Not in my control, incurable, is my damn malady. If I had my way, I'd never get out of bed. I'm scared of my silhouette. Wish some heroin I could inject. I wish they expressed how ill I am. Everybody laughs, or tries to help. That says a lot. People; they remind me of my illness. I hear voices in the stillness. I can't function without my pills. Gone are the days of me looking for thrills. I am nothing more than a damn burden. And I would like nothing more than to unburden those that care for me. Doing me no good are all these sermons. I am just a vermin. It's all a joke, my existence. I am always in need of assistance. Happiness, perhaps, would bring my non-existence. People're always out to do me harm. Always, I'm alarmed. It has twisted my damn head, this sickness. Life in a room can get repetitious. I am crazy, I affirm. People just think I'll transform into someone better. Wish I could inform them that I won't.
© 2020 pinhead07Featured Review
Reviews
|
Stats
40 Views
3 Reviews Added on June 9, 2020 Last Updated on June 9, 2020 Author
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked.. |