Each morning I rise to a restless haze, a landscape of shifting moods
Routine is a battlefield, where I spar with shadows over the reins of my sanity
Caught between truths I recognize and illusions dressed as comfort
Time loops through ghost-filled days, my soul heavy with sorrow, rage, and shame
Some call it grief, wearing a cleaver disguise
A cocktail of chaos surges, chemically conjured joy, a false haven of euphoria
At its peak, I soar, then crash into echoes of manic missteps
Anxiety sinks its teeth, forecasting ruin
Depression waits with open arms, to swallow the light
Silence Me
I've wielded my tongue like a blade in fury and every spoken wound still bleeds
Forgiveness arrives on shattered wings and never quite the same
Mind, body, soul, drained to their husks
Anxiety whispers I'm too much
Depression insists I'm nothing
And so here I remain, a lone soldier, in a war waged within
©2021