I cannot grief,
about my disbelief.
On how I feel,
About nothing being surreal.
I just want to be hurled,
because I think almost everyone in the world.
Wants me on my meds,
so I am not a sped.
They think I cannot control,
what is now not whole.
My body which is now just a shell,
which now it is a cold dank cell.
For my being yearns to escape,
for it feels like I am bound by medical adhesive tape.
I don’t understand,
why I feel like I have been branded.
Why everyones look says he’s a dunce,
I would rather be punched.
I cannot look up,
For I feel like I hold a cup.
A chalice of my own blood,
the blood that has been riddled with mud.
The muddied blood that has been spilled,
because of the mental drills.
By peoples venomous words,
that came in herds.
These will forever scar,
me worse than a cigar.
Forever and ever into my own personal hell.
for I can hear the deep dull ringing of a bell.
I now think I should disappear from everyone,
I thought maybe I should run
So no one needs to see me anymore,
as if I am a sore.
For no one can grief,
over my own disbelief.