Sick

“Sick” was the word I’d carved into my arm.

“Sick” was the word I repeated to myself.

“Sick” is what I was.

No,

Not sick in the soul or sick in the heart,

Sick in the mind of endless art.

Sick because of the sadness I thought,

Ill because of the havoc I sought.

Chaos controlled by self destruction,

Others see it as dumb but I see it as addiction.

It’s a hard place to be in,

So trapped and so cold...

With nothing but yourself to hold.

So sick I am,

And sick I shall be.

“Sick sick sick,”

Is how you'll see me.

Oh no,

Don’t feel pity!

Nor hope and self doubt.

Someday,

Yes someday!

I might just dig myself out.

I know you love me,

But no ropes you should throw,

These are my demons and MY troubles you know!

For now you can leave me with them,

We can dance through the night,

Shout to the heavens until the sky is bright,

Maybe have drinks or swim in our tears,

It’s quite alright!

For it won’t matter what we do,

I’ll still wake up sick,

And you’ll still wake up blue.