Please note: this piece contains strong language and descriptions of mental health
I think I need a shrink, to help me try and think
about what I really am, as I try and understand the best I can.
I sometimes feel alone and that part of me has died within these bones
and I’ve lost that get up and go, to find I’ve got so down, that I’ve laid low.
My head aches so slowly inside and holds dense in my hands,
as heavy weighs on my mind, there’s still tonnes I don’t understand.
I’ve searched for answers myself, but I need some clarity for the sane
as madness looms right beside me, I find I’m all over the place.
I press hard on my eyes with the base of my palms,
as my fingers dig deep for the grip, I hold my breath for the calm.
I try and think clearly but nothing comes as a thought
and I feel lost for a moment in darkness, as silence is sought.
The pressions that were dented, weren’t intended to be on my mind all this time
but these depressions have now grown, and I own all of them as one in my mind.
My breath is held as a test, as I imagine the calmness of death,
and I see a sea of wreaths laid beneath me, but grief lies underneath with unrest.
I’ve tried to explain things to myself, but I’m led to just thinking out loud,
and the empty spaces in my head just seem crowded with clouds.
I freeze in these moments as my lungs hold in sync with my frame
and for that pause in my life where my picture hangs still, to this day.
I still, can’t find the correct outlets for the pressures I feel
and the anger is contained for a while until it’s vented and cleared.
I do feel that I’ve tried, but I know it’s not been good enough
and I take some blame myself, over some of the things that have occurred.
Am I bipolar or stressed and is that why I’m a fuckin’ mess?
Or has my mind just been abused and confused so much that I’m deeply depressed?
Am I all the above, just rolled into one ball of selfish self-love
and Is that why I push for answers, when pushing does come to shove?
I’ve had so much shit shoved on my plate
and I’ve been fed up to the eyeballs so much.
With all the things I’ve digested, I still hate what I’ve ate
but it's deep down inside where it hurts.
I’ve took a long hard look, into my history of loss, death and glory
but I’m waiting for this sentence to end, as I continue through the pages of my story.
I need some help and I need some sound advice
so I can move forward and safely carry a load that’s suffice.
For a future, I need somebody to talk to get this all out of my system
because I’m still talking to myself and still nobody’s listenin’.