Ebullient Bedlam

Are you searching for meaning friend?

Are you coming to your bleeding end?

Do your wrists speak your bleeding mind,

telling you your purpose is hard to find?

I'm not here to give you biased advise, the finest advice,

but maybe to calm the riots of mind.

 

Nobody's dealing with your demons,

meaning maybe defeating them

will make you teeming with meaning friend.

Your beautiful purpose: It'll start to surface.

Curses! These verses are not wordless!

Listen closer, NOBODY'S WORTHLESS!

 

Sorry... For yelling and telling you things

are never ever as they seem.

 

I think of thoughts differently,

I think they ought to be set free.

Like when I blink I'm on the brink

of falling asleep, and when I blink

in that little moment of dream

I dream things that seem

to carry me like wings.

 

These things, these dreams, these Beasts with wings,

They are far from comprehension.

 

They force me to ponder my purpose

without paying any attention.

 

I could never pay, I'm broke in both ways,

it was never my intention,

 

for my thoughts, my faith, my reality

to be questioned by my questions.

 

These questions are not questions for that which they consist,

they occur in my blinking dreams, meaning through the day they persist.

 

These questions seem to be thoughts rather, tempting my mind towards crime,

full of blasphemy, and heresy, yet full of love and good will

at the same time.

 

"Pay them no heed." my consciousness insists.

My mind turned to a battlefield, and with pain I clench my fists.

 

I fight for individuality,

these "questions" are what defines me.

 

I cannot loose sight of this,

therefore I will fight for this:

 

to make my own decisions,

and to seek answers to my inquisitions.

 

I know I cannot do this alone,

so I find help from God on his throne,

 

to help me solve this twisted problem

inside my mind's ebullient bedlam.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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