PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I'm in shambles 

My poems are just nonsensical rambles

Too ashamed to ask for a helping hand

Why am I so compelled to fulfill everyone's demands?

When did it not become okay for passions to change?

Everyone always teases about the lives they would exchange.

Feeling sick to my stomach, the Zoloft doesn't help

Rewire my brain to be happy, but just end up killing myself...

Reflect on past photos to improve the mood

But only brooded over the past and garnered an attitude

Used the drugs to escape this mundane world

But in reality, abused the drugs to points where I couldn't speak a word.

Life tasks and consistency become irritating to complete

Over and over, doing the same everyday on repeat

I find comfort in branching out elsewhere

These past passions I thought I had, now don't give a care.

Life is full of so much choice, if life was like that book, The Giver, then I'd know my purpose

But I guess that's all part of life, have to find out what makes it worth it.