My head aches.
Published in
Aug 22, 2024
A headspace at war against peace,
Where demons gather to reach me.
It’s an overlooked warning of some sort.
They enter a psychological back alley,
To run wild in the roots of an identity.
The crisis is befriended,
Frustration has a warmth,
Numb to anxiety’s mortgage.
Having a lot at stake is relaxing,
While pride demands higher taxes.
I wear a veneer, to cover the truth
But it fails as miserably as I do.
A kid who doesn’t know what he wants
patiently starves behind a fake front;
With little energy left to let out a yawn.
Conditioned to be a soldier all of his life,
He is desperate to drop the guard down,
And let out a smile, every once in a while.
Learning to live as if he had died, he resigns
From normalcy to these deprived highs.
