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Room C
January 15, 2014
It’s hard to tell which part of this
Is sickness,
Which is me,
It’s hard to know what secrets
Are still mine
What should be freed.
The isolation, it runs rampant
Never stops to ask,
When it should slow
Or it should quit
Or if it moves too fast.
Loneliness runs through us
It’s the kin in all our veins
It drives us to insanity
Corrupts, infects,
Our brains.
Disease in mind, illness in body,
To me it’s all the same,
Because whatever’s in my blood
Has driven me insane.
© Victoria W., Arcadia, CA
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