I am not
Going mad
Even when holding my
Numb head in my
Wilting hands
Wondering how everyone else
Seems to understand
I am not
Going mad
Even when whimpering
From the strain of pain
Curled up again
On the floor, tears endured
I promise you I am
Not
Going mad
I am doing what I must
To get through
It doesn’t feel like I
Am getting through
Yet I
Am
I am getting up
Just to feed the cat
Take my meds while I do that
Might as well brush the hair
I can feel like
There’s no reason to care
Without inflicting it on my head
Sometimes I feel
Like I am losing it
Living life, abusing it
I almost feel like
My place in the world
Would have been better
Given to someone who does not
Feel like she’s going insane
But I am not
And my place in this world
Won’t be replaced
By someone else
Because there needs to be a me
To write my poetry
My head is
Aching
Heart barely stitched back up
From all the breaking
Hands still shaking
But I don’t
Sit around waiting
To get better
I am not
Going mad
I am not sure I
Will ever understand
But even when
I am caressing the aching forehead
In my wilting hands
I have not gone mad
This is all
I have
And I will not
Spend my time
Being mad
01:11am - 02/10/26 - my bed.
-
Author:
Chloe S (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 1st, 2026 19:15
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
- Users favorite of this poem: Fränz Müller
Offline)
Comments2
A poetic expression of sanity despite what may come. Well done
thank you!
You are most welcome
This world will indeed drive you mad if we let it. Hang in there!!!
trying very hard! thanks for reading 🙂
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