Ethan Daniel


When I wake up I’m still tripping,

Not on substances but chemicals.



I walk through the days just to hear voices,

Not from people I know

But from a place that I should call home.

My mind is a mansion but I’m stuck in a room.


The pictures on the wall are blood red,

Is that from my bleeding heart or distrust?

Everyday is just another step to nowhere,

So what’s the point?


I’m a prisoner to my own thoughts

Fortifying my mansion to the world,

Bleeding to death from the wounds I’ve earned

So please save me from my self inflicted curse