When the brain shuts down

I feel its time to turn the tables

But the tables keep turning on me

Then I say put down that coffee…take a stand

But they stand on top of me

I look up in the hope my eyes will communicate the turmoil

But they shut their eyes and close their hearts

My fingers ache to type words of woe

But the woe numbs before the words reach my tips

My heart feels hopeful

But my mind forgets the meaning of ‘hope’

Who am I, my soul asks?

Who were you meant to be?

Are you just a struggling being?

Or are you more than the eye can see?

I feel no remorse for my flaws

I make no excuses for my truths

If you can’t handle the best I have to offer

You’ll never know what I could’ve been

Forget what you saw in me because that faded

Think of all you said to me because you left me jaded

All that lives now is a dying brain

And fingers with a dull ache

Passion is a fleeting joy gone in a blink

Apathy persists with dreams of anarchy

Catharsis seems a viable option now

But how is the mind to heal when beaten down?

Watch and learn for someone else might come your way

And you’ll know not what you had or what you let get away.


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