186 reads

Disorderly

I stare at routine through wire and broken glass

Confined by my disorder, will it come to pass?

Dulcet tones play on old vinyl as I step behind the line

The crackle and pop ushers in my medication time

I’m clouded and confused on the how and the why?

Every day it’s easier to purify my eyes

Sharpened on my insistence for perfection

Have I now fallen under my own correction?

Pinholes of light shine through my cell door

Fabricated bullet holes that signify a new war

A new day where I have to fight my own insanity

Where confusion clouds the simplest parts of me

I get called to talk about my messy, tangled mind

To volunteer a solution to why the world is so unkind

Staring at shiny high heels that pierce me with lies

A power suit that signifies her job is her disguise

Reflective speaking that shatters on the core of me

I get no clarification from the world of psychotherapy

Comfy expensive couches that rarely offer any help

As I realise it’s me that has to fix my myself...

So I will...