Audacity

Our brains are sick

and the streetlamps are broken.

We speak the language 

of pills and asphyxiation,

but we deal.

The problem lies in me,

but I will not stop.

I will not go to sleep yet.

The silence is violent,

and all in my head.

After sitting in the psych ward

on the linoleum floor,

against all likelihood, 

I rise.

What do you take me for?

I will do what others will not.

I will hold onto what hope is.

Because its never too late.

Because I have the audacity

to think that in the morning, 

it's gonna be alright.