In and Out of Reality
I guess it's my weak heart,
Pumping less than it should,
That takes my sense of reality,
Sometimes to another neighborhood...
I can't trust my memory,
I can't trust my words,
I float in and out,
Like psychotic birds,
Only Hitchcock is missing,
And my director is unknown,
I've become baffled by what I've heard,
And the mental landscapes I've roamed,
Trust me, it's quite frightning,
To not know what is real,
Or if I'm still a good man,
Or a villain apt to steal,
When my mind is no longer mine,
And seizures rule my life,
And I find it quite doubtful,
To recognize my last wife...
I can only pray,
I suffer no one any harm,
Cause just the very thought,
Causes me great alarm...
At the core of this sick man,
Beats a heart encased in gold,
Or so I've oft heard,
And so I'm oft told...
I leave up to God to determine,
In my last hour,
For he is the only one,
Entrusted with such power...
And, if it's determined,
Heaven I do no warrant,
I'll work all the harder next time,
To avoid the devil's torrent.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
