The Twisted Rituals of my Life

I've gone through adequate measures to beat the monster that resides within me

This thing lay secreted beneath the surface of my skin

Readying to rupture out at any which moment

Sometimes I grumble at the colossal mess that’s waiting at the shore

Now and then, from any of my remaining, redeeming qualities

But still I laugh at this humorous position

Pulling my veils deep-in-denial of truth away from my face

Occasionally, revealing an concealed creature kept securely at bay

They call me names, of names of which I do not know

How funny, how so?

Fine-tuned inner workings guide my mischievous thought

I come weary, laced in defeat

Filled with the

Strange innermost mechanisms my mother never told me could exist

My identity is overly plastic

Like a masked phantom who have no homage,

 Of the origin of his beginning existence

His or her history has been erased

As I sit here in this uncomfortable chair and grumble

About his whereabouts

My perceptions are unclear, fogging up my mind

Simply created to agitate my preconceive notion of worth

This is only here to further frustrate me

I come long and hard

Fingering this magnetic seduction at will

My mouth gaping wide and drooling with haughty filled anticipation

I simmer down; fidgeting

To the raised bumps mingling on top of my docile arm

The hairs standing still

Like a platoon of conscious soldiers

Equipped for a bloodstained war

The Orifice of my brain

Is made up of gory matter

That pulls at the heartstrings

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741