Chaos of Thought

It wasn't meant to be this way.

This isn't the life for me.

I hate this role I'm forced to play

Where I'm chained up and not free.

Waking up every morning with a pounding in my head,

My heart numb, my tongue dumb, my poor eyes rimmed in red.

Wanting to spend my days in bed, watching a white-washed wall.

This isn't what I pictured. Not a bit. No, not at all.

The clock drains all sense of life with every tick, tick, tick.

A silent beast crawls up my throat and makes me sick, sick, sick.

I didn't want to do it: hiding myself away.

My feet didn't mean to do it: leading me astray.

I didn't go where I needed to; I went the other way.

I did the complete opposite. I'm mad or so they say.

The heart hungers for love, for human contact it yearns.

But the mind wards off all, so every touch just burns.

A walking contradiction, this is a coin with two sides.

A talking oxymoron of giddy smiles, lonely sighs.

I haven't seen the world and yet have seen plenty.

Knowing not to trust lest they all leave me empty.

Dual-minded, undecided to open up to the masses.

So I sit up in my room, hoping that this too passes.