You probably don’t understand me.
You probably never will.
I can tell you that my brain is scattered
and to the brim it is filled
with madness.
My mind is never the same.
I’m constantly changing.
Forever.
I can tell you that I’m a writer.
I’m a poet.
I know it.
I can tell you that I’m anxious.
And riddled with depression.
It gets bad then it gets worse then I’m okay until I’m not and
the cycle starts again.
I am constantly in motion.
Even when I’m not.
My mind never stops.
I think things I know I should not.
I believe my thoughts
and I know
it’s not healthy.
I know I am guilty.
I can’t explain myself enough in words for you to get me.
You won’t ever get me.
And I use to hate that.
But now
I love that
I am a mystery.
My mind doesn’t make much sense.
I confuse you with my actions,
with my words,
And you’re on the fence
on whether or not
you like me.
Can you deal with me?
And
in return
You say I’m broken, so beautifully
Broken.
Well,
I would rather be broken than not
feel pain at all.
I can’t afford to be numb.
Call me mad but…
I’ve got stories to tell.
I’ve got words to spell.
My madness is my destiny.
And I won’t let disapproval
from anyone
get the best of me.
If only for a day
Would you stay
Long enough to get me?
To try
and get me
Before you let me
slip away.
Become a story
on a page
of my madness,
my beautiful madness.
My beautiful muse.
A
Unraveling my soul 