Poetry Drawer: Mental State by Nathan Pleavin

On a day like any other,
No clouds sweep the skies,
Yet my mind turns again,
My head whispers lies.

A mistake sits within me,
It grows and it grows,
I try to ignore it,
My fault again I suppose.

No suppose about it,
It’s all your fault,
My brain works against me,
A slug amongst salt.

I try to ignore it,
Yet the voices grow louder,
Motivation all but gone,
As it is ground into powder.

I sit and I fret,
I cry and I scream,
This sickness within me,
That cannot be seen.

How did it feel,
To be me yesterday?
Now it has re-emerged,
It is but a distant memory.
I know that in time,
These instincts will fade,
But a life that is normal,
All I have I would trade

On a day like any other,
Clouds darken the skies,
But who was that person,
That was telling me lies.

The sickness dies down,
I resurface again,
The whispers now silent,
The cycle begins.

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