more dumb poetry

Crushed Dreams's picture

more dumb poetry

so this came out crappy. I tried to write about my paranoia in this but it came out weird. anyway, enjoy.
It's different every time.

I am alive,
Too much for my liking.
Part of living is emotions.
Why are we cursed with such things?

They control us.
Affect everything we do.
Can be manipulated easily.
Can manipulate us easily.

Mine though?
Controlling does not even begin to explain it.

I like to believe I had innocence,
But it was destroyed early on,
Lost in time with age.
Inside my mind is similar to a battle.

Common sense.
We all are born with it,
It is our instinct.
It helps tell smart from dumb,
Reality from fantasy.

My common sense?
It was altered.
Reality is all too real,
But only because it was mixed with cruel fantasy.

The paranoia,
It controls me.
I am its puppet,
And it is my master.

There isn't a day that passes
Without the thoughts.
Thoughts of...

I sit,
Shaking and crying,
Fearful and alone,
My mind torturing me.

I see it everywhere.
How I can...

Fires could engulf me.
Everything could come crashing down.
Earth quakes could consume me in rock.
My body could decide to shut off.

But I'm just getting started.
Don't get me started.

What ever you can imagine,
Any death,
I have already thought of it.

I've seen it in my head.
Seen how it could just stop my line.
It's madness.
I can't stop.

Death is constantly floating around me.
Paranoia digs its hooks into my sanity.
How many more times?
Can't it stop?

I want to make it stop.
I want to make it end.
Stop this suffering,
This torture!

I'm alive though.
Oh so painfully alive.

For now.