It’s like a cloud in my head.
A fog, a haze,
Which never lifts
That never fades.
It’s like a monster in my bed.
A scream, a fear,
Which at every dawn
Is always here.
It’s like words that can’t be said.
Whispers, pleas,
Unanswered and lost
In the midnight freeze.
It’s like wounds that haven’t bled
Anguish, a torment.
A struggle of the mind,
The soul’s dissent.
It’s like a hunger that can’t be fed.
An urge, a need,
The insatiable void
Of sorrow’s greed.
It’s like skin I cannot shed,
A trap, a snare,
A prison cell
Growing from underneath my hair.
It’s the wish that I was dead,
At rest, at peace,
In that warm, dark place
Where doubt will cease.