No dark clouds surrounding me,
just my red blanket enveloping my body.
The air feels clear and crisp,
but why am I suffocating?

The hammer plummeting inside my head reappears,
followed by the familiar little tingling steps of the spiders,
perhaps to me they're all just reminders,
of the one thing I've always wondered...

Am I sane or am I not?

The urges to scream,
yearning to feel the breaking bones in my hands,
the need to shout,
desperately wanting to create chaos...

Craving to feel alive again.

My thoughts are criminals.
They've been caged within the prison of morality.
Arsonists, rapists, murderers.
They are jailed in a prison deep in my mind.

They would stomp the ground,
dig with shovels,
destroy the cells,
to run away and be free.

The world is clear to my senses,
but not in my head.
My head is in a state of calamity.

Labels: anger, anxiety, depression, disturbed, emotion, ill, poem, poetry, psychology, sick