Basket Case

I’m mental.

I’m losing what’s left of my rapidly

deteriorating mind.

Its hard to understand a basket

case.

No one really does.

Not even the shrinks who

devote their entire lives to that kind of stuff.

I’m on my own.

I’m a lost cause.

I’m chasing my mind in circles.

Desperately grasping for

that one last shred of sanity.

I crave escape.

I want to pull my hair out.

Scratch my skin.

Scream at the top of my lungs.

This depression. This monster.

It preys upon my soul.

I feel it inside.

A heavy darkness

weighing on my chest.

Its pulling and tugging me down,

and down still.

Dragging me into the dark depths

of insanity.

And I let it.

I let it take over.

I let it win.

I lose.

I’m lost.

I’m mental.

t.m.

This poem is about: 
Me

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