When I wake, my eyes are blurry-
I’m off my medication and nothing seems right, even though I convince myself everything is under control-
I’m a peaceful man constantly engaged in warfare with those nearest and dear to me-
Why is this happening when all I want is peace-
I feel like President Taylor yearning for Liberia to reach a calm state yet resorting to warfare as the solution to all dilemmas-
I am a warlord to myself-
Peace is just an arm’s reach away yet the universe within me is constantly cloudy-
I need to clean that up first-
I wish to speak this out loud but who is there to listen?
I wish to speak this out loud but where do I begin?
It seems there is a lengthy history that is overlooked when I attempt to speak and this history cannot be described with words-
Only bloodshed and tears-
Yet this history is essential in being able to hear my story-
So I’m left to conclude only I can try to understand and only I can hear myself speak-
I’m in a sad, dark place-
It’s cold and damp down here-
You can smell the cobwebs and taste the mildew-
It isn’t very pleasant-
My girlfriend comes here sometimes-
She feels she’s alone but I’m down there also-
She can’t see me-
I’m lurking in a dark corner vigorously washing the filth from my eyes-
I come up for air, food, and exercise but even that I’ve been skimping on lately-
I usually end up down here-
This is my shelter-
I dream dreams within dreams, but they never come true-
I have wonderful people that surround me yet I make them all miserable-
Is there a place for me in this world?
I need to go back downstairs-
Goodbye~