Fears of being rotten to the core
Here I sit with a candle lit
As I rest and wait to commit.
To a life of blue skies and angels,
As I try to ignore the pain sensation.
Whilst being overcome with isolation.
Trying in vain to think of happy thoughts,
As the devil looks on and applauds,
And laughs and jeers right in my face,
Since he knows that he is winning the race,
As he picks up a faster pace.
The various voices that I hear,
Are all so loud and clear,
As they wait for me to acknowledge them,
But all that I want to do is try to count to ten.
All I want is to be pretty as a flower on a stem.
My dreams are filled of drowning,
Which always leave me frowning,
Every single day is a fight for survival,
As daylight makes it arrival,
I realize that I have another rival.
Try therapy it will work they all say,
But little do they know I won’t sway.
Since I have tried numerous times before,
But the subject is just so very sore,
So I accept that I am just rotten to the core.
There are good days as well as bad ones,
Like now I have decided to make use of puns,
As I write this poem after having a reflection,
On what creates my inner perception,
So that I can create myself as a reinvention.
So take the highs with lows
And do not come to blows,
For not every day will be the same,
Since life is one long game,
That gets put into a frame.