My life is like a bottle of booze
like brandy on the rocks or
a cocktail of isopropyl,
waking up at different times in the day
my shame wasting away with depression barley astray
dealing with stress like a deaf singer learning beethoven.
I know I have a screw loose in my brain but
without shame I’m insane.
Smoking is bad, but drinking is worse
most pick up the bottle
because depression hurts.
It starts by building
the hole
for you to fall in
twisting the days into light-
less nights,
terror
fright
the lost emotions of that night.
My mother had pain
thus altering her restrain
to
grab the bottle
and end lifes game.
September is the month I stay stiffly awake singing strange songs knowing that its wrong to be laying awake at 2am blaming my mom
with people complaining about things like boko haram.
With death all around who isnt depressed, stressed, this world is a ******* up mess.
In the end struggle and strain because there is no gain without
pain.