Prisons

I know you are locked away behind real bars, I never really know your scars. I have never really been there, But I know you live everyday on a prayer. I just know my personal prison, The life that some say is a life of indecision. But really is a life of pure hell, So here is my story to tell. Thoughts of murder and suicide is a daily thing, Hallucinations and paranoia that is not improving. Not a soul to trust, I live everyday in total disgust. I need deliverance is what some people say, If they would only live my life for a day. I live behind locked doors, I have my own wars. I feel up and down, And I always wear a frown. Some days I just lie in bed , And mainly wish I were dead. The nightmares are frightening, I wake up screaming. They seem so real, I just want my nights to be still. The sickness, I feel the thickness. They give you meds to deal with the pain, But with those you only feel the drain. When will our sentence end, I know we can't go on and pretend, Life is fine I just wish I could sit down and enjoy a life like a fine wine. But it is not meant to be, For me, My prison is in my own mind, My life is so unkind. A life where on the windows there are bars, My life I am living with the scars. I look at images of you and I see the sadness, I want to reach out to you but not sure if I can because of the madness. All the scars that you bare, I want you to know that deep down I really do care. Deborah Seale Miller