My Mind, My Madness

Words flow from my head like waters from the Nile.
Ripping tides of tragedy, painting an ocean of defial.

Defying a way of thought that might sneak me a smile.
This and so much more have been branded me denial.

Scribbled and doodled are the words from inside.
Hiding from my madness, many times I've tried.

I cannot accept inside that it is happiness I deserve.
Like a jar of severed limbs, my pain is preserved.

Brought forth to my heart on every occasion.
To stop my thoughts will take Godly persuasion.

An act of thee almighty in biblical proportions.
Drownd my painful memories or offer a distortion.

Medication, sedation, only offer a short break.
Methods I often use where I can no longer tell what is fake.

Did that memory really happen that causes me to stand still?
That causes me to never overcome the sorrow that I feel.

Where can my mind hide when theres no place to go?
Life is badly written poetry, words forever flow.

I have the power to change me but not the pictures inside my head.
It seems I am forever lying in this dreadfully made bed.

Insanity my blanket, nightmares forms reality.
The happiness I could have had, I morn your fatality.

Gone, is the ink from my pen, now no extension for my thoughts.
In this hell that harbors any understanding, my brain forever rots.

Creativity, at times, is nothing but a slow, painful death.
My mind, a ticking bomb, till my conscience inhales its last breath.

If writing is a way of letting thoughts escape then what am I doing wrong?
My mind is always speaking, like a record replaying the devils songs.

I think to myself...my mind in your madness, it will never come to light.
A way of winning this battle, I'm tired and I give up this fight.

A method to my madness, I don't believe there is.
If thoughts were a science, I am truly a wiz.