Enduring Turmoil

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Inner Turmoil within a struggling mind.

Submitted: March 21, 2012

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Submitted: March 21, 2012



I endure inner turmoil,
a never-ending eternal embroil,
ugly and jealous of a life denied -
discourse between my paranoia and pride
repressed inside. I can't walk away
I'm inferior; beginning to erode, crumble, decay.
Negativity briefly placed beneath a smile;

Smeared thinly across my face; vile with no style.

Inglorious battle raging within my mind,
debating an answer impossible to find.
As crushing as the thought of ending,
Am I ever to rest without conscience or time? -
sleeping - anguish persisting; a gutting outcry.
A reverie for the reaper, we pass him by,
A servant of servile servitude to chaos,
despite all I've given, it is meagre at mos'.

My pulse races, a torrent surges,
smitten with guilty urges
to be seen and understood -
saved from the storm.
We are all in pain; people simply perform,
mirroring the acts of others -
a subliminal distraction,
from our personal failings
prohibited potential.
It always seems easier in a deeper sleep,
living out a perfect fantasy in our dreams,
where no turmoil creeps.

© Copyright 2018 Alec Maynard. All rights reserved.

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