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Poem

The eyes behind the glass.

Have you ever looked in the mirror while the contrast was dim?
Now the light is dim and now you are limping on a limb.
No light to make you wink, only you and your thoughts.

The glass is dark, but as you move around the dark.

You see the glass is turning dim and grim.

The glass is worn during the night and during the day to shield away the red veins and the uv-pain rays.

When the glass is alone, I feel a sensation of where I begin to picture myself in a padded closet. Losing all control… I don’t know… 

But I do know that I see a mental image where I am running away from my future,
I can’t seem to get anywhere.
There is a voice within me that is craving to be used and abuse me mentally.

When the glass is on I am no longer in control…

My thoughts float around speaking in psalms I only heard in my own mind.
These thoughts are not mind, as I write down I know these thoughts are not mind,
I know Misspelled mine with a d.

But in the next set of lines you will be my judge if I am in my own mind.
Or if these drugs are only being kind to a person of my kind.

The eyes behind the glass.

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