Poem I wrote a couple days ago. Probably the 13th. Not sure. Doesn't matter.
Scraping at the edges, grasping for sanity
Shaking uncontrollably with blood pounding
In head, heart, mouth, a cocktail of fear and anxiety
Walking along the crowded hallway, calling
Friends, enemies, none of it clear
A smile plastered, promises "I'll call you"
When I never want to talk to you again,
My bastard, my sister, my love and hatred
A time when the world was wonderful
A time when everyone was caring
Beauty was the surrounding images
Slowly slashed away with the dagger
Bloody dagger still dripping with dying spirits
Of the killed
The dying
Hearts and minds, bodies and souls
I am disabled, unable, like a child
Losing control
Losing reality
Losing the moment
If it was ever truly there