Please, let me be me!
Such a crazy cry!
And I bow my head in shame.
Part of the mission is to be me.
I rarely am.
When I am, I feel terribly guilty.
What rotten roach is inside me?
What poisonous snake makes it so bad
for me to be me, even for a moment?
Depression, Failure, Poems, Poetry, recovery, Take Me To The Hospital
This entry was posted on April 25, 2011, 8:05 pm and is filed under Poems. You can follow any responses to this entry through RSS 2.0. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
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stillfugue
#1 by carldagostino on April 25, 2011 - 8:13 pm
The choice of the word “mission” is thought provoking.
#2 by Carl on April 25, 2011 - 10:02 pm
I imagine that I always need some sort of mission, but this is an odd one.
#3 by Find an Outlet on April 25, 2011 - 9:02 pm
We have to fake it, I think it’s mandatory. I highly doubt a complete personality overhaul is likely.
#4 by Carl on April 25, 2011 - 10:02 pm
Should I stop dreaming of not faking it?
Thank you for your comment!
#5 by Find an Outlet on April 25, 2011 - 10:44 pm
No, it’s good to have a dream.
#6 by pattisj on April 27, 2011 - 12:20 am
Probably the same snake that tempted Eve so long ago. You shall overcome.
#7 by Carl on April 27, 2011 - 9:07 pm
Those snakes live forever!