What is Real?
Psychosis, mental illness, psychotic,
Been labeled schizophrenic.
Complete mental confusion.
I don’t know what’s real any more.
They say its just the voice of my conscience,
if this is true
then why does that persons voice
come from the other side of the room?
The trees are crying again.
Suicidal ideation, self destructive behavior.
I feel I have no choice
Sick of being treated as a criminal.
I’m watching myself
from somewhere in another time.
Total confusion
Distorted reality.
Can you hear my voices arguing?
I have to obey the voices,
Just to make them quiet.
I don’t have a choice, they will make me do it.
Deny the voices, push them away.
Let me deny the existence of my own thoughts.
When I was a kid I used to believe that I could alter the outcome of events just by thinking about it. Then one day I told somebody what I could do, and they only laughed at me. I began believing from there on that nothing I would ever do, would change the world. I didn’t matter any more.
Crash of Chaos
I stepped out into the rain
hardly aware of anything around me.
The water poured down my rosy cheeks
Obscuring my privately hidden tears.
Why do I still cry? What do I feel?
I looked up into the clouds in a daze,
flecks of water splashing into my eyes.
Can the weather synchronize with my heart?
Every pounding drop is how far down I’ve fallen.
The rain picks up.
Harder, harder.
I taste salt.
Am I crying?
Are the clouds raining my tears?
Lighting, you’d think I’d be used to it by now,
but always the resulting thunder,
whether sooner or later,
comes crashing down around me.
Surrounding me,
enveloping me in a cocoon of the deepest sorrow.
I can’t even hold myself together anymore.
The winds howl like forlorn ghosts,
harshly whipping rain and hair about my face.
Light, another crashing thunder,
louder and more terrible than the last.
The trees are bent sideways almost.
But this isn’t even the beginning of my storm.
My knees give out beneath me
and my cry is masked by another
crash of chaos.
Psychosis, mental illness, psychotic,
Been labeled schizophrenic.
Complete mental confusion.
I don’t know what’s real any more.
They say its just the voice of my conscience,
if this is true
then why does that persons voice
come from the other side of the room?
The trees are crying again.
Suicidal ideation, self destructive behavior.
I feel I have no choice
Sick of being treated as a criminal.
I’m watching myself
from somewhere in another time.
Total confusion
Distorted reality.
Can you hear my voices arguing?
I have to obey the voices,
Just to make them quiet.
I don’t have a choice, they will make me do it.
Deny the voices, push them away.
Let me deny the existence of my own thoughts.
When I was a kid I used to believe that I could alter the outcome of events just by thinking about it. Then one day I told somebody what I could do, and they only laughed at me. I began believing from there on that nothing I would ever do, would change the world. I didn’t matter any more.
Crash of Chaos
I stepped out into the rain
hardly aware of anything around me.
The water poured down my rosy cheeks
Obscuring my privately hidden tears.
Why do I still cry? What do I feel?
I looked up into the clouds in a daze,
flecks of water splashing into my eyes.
Can the weather synchronize with my heart?
Every pounding drop is how far down I’ve fallen.
The rain picks up.
Harder, harder.
I taste salt.
Am I crying?
Are the clouds raining my tears?
Lighting, you’d think I’d be used to it by now,
but always the resulting thunder,
whether sooner or later,
comes crashing down around me.
Surrounding me,
enveloping me in a cocoon of the deepest sorrow.
I can’t even hold myself together anymore.
The winds howl like forlorn ghosts,
harshly whipping rain and hair about my face.
Light, another crashing thunder,
louder and more terrible than the last.
The trees are bent sideways almost.
But this isn’t even the beginning of my storm.
My knees give out beneath me
and my cry is masked by another
crash of chaos.
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