Being me is not easy, and every day it seems to get harder. |
-Psychosomatic Suicide- by Keaton Foster Shut up Be silent Speak nothing Say even less Allow me some sleep If only for a moment For one solidified second And if you don’t If you flat out refuse These hands will be forced I will act to achieve What increasingly I so desperately need God above will understand And if he don’t At this point I could care less This has come down to survival The coexistence of two beings Inside the shell of one My heart, these lungs Every significant function Except one has become autonomous My brain, requires constant operation Never ending, repetitive affirmation It must be told that everything is all right That the world around means no harm And if I don’t tell it what it needs to hear Then all day, every damn day All night, every damn night It keeps me wide awake Racing with ideas of “what if?” Screaming, you must listen And hear what I am saying Understand my deepest concerns And do not rest until they are met Being as creative as I appear Has a terrible price And a laundry list of consequences Ones that I can live with And ones that increasingly I cannot Psychosomatic suicide At time seems to be a choice Where there are no others I’ve held the gun to my head I’ve held the knife to my vein I’ve taken handfuls of drugs All of it in the name of escape All of it because of the exhaustion That comes with having a mind like mine It never shuts off unless it’s at peace With me and my surroundings It never allows me an ounce of sleep Without a mountain of assurances It is without question costing me Everything Those that I love and those that I need Those who understand what’s happening And those who understand what is not… Psychosomatic Suicide Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2013 |