it's almost as if my brain and heart
are at constant war
my mental health being the battlefield
gradually dwindling in stability.
(or maybe this is recovery, for I don't know who I am without my ill mind)
when the violence reaches its peak
my pen charges across the page
Quick, Quick, Quick!
each word heavier than the last
each word leaving me at a loss for the next one
I'm constantly at a crossroads,
adding to my paradoxical manner
left is my brain, right is my heart
and I must always choose.
is this human?
or am I just bad at living?
