Running from myself,
Think I need some help.
Conflicted between,
Finding inner peace &,
F__k everybody else.
Running from myself,
Think I need some help…
My personality,
Is on the borderline.
Amazon Prime,
Got that new life,
Need to order mine.
Lord; Won’t you,
Show me a sign,
Before I blow out,
My f__kin mind,
Too long;
I’ve been on this grind.
Ahead of pace tryin’,
Not to fall behind.
A man with open eyes,
Can still walk,
Amongst the blind.
Got psychology on tape,
Let’s put the VHS in rewind.

Rattle within,
My brain.
I border between,
Conscious &,
Completely insane.
Fueled up like Bane,
Luckily I’m addicted,
To the pain.
Acid washed,
Nothing but a stain.
I drown in the rain,
Of all my shame,
Excess blame,
Stapled to my name.
Cracks cover,
My picture frame,
Never sunk this deep,
Til the waves came,
And took me away,
From the shore.
I’ve experienced,
These feelings before,
I dread them,
Beg for more.
It’s almost like I wanna,
Freeze my heart,
Just to remelt the core.
Got two paths but,
They’re both trap doors.
Heading up river with,
Broken oars.
Feeling like,
Pointless chores.
Got me dripping,
Through the floor.
Keep me from galore.
Paranoia got me,
Trippin’ like,
Fungus spores.
I feel more alive,
When I snore.
Back & forth, It’s;
An endless war.
This bloodsport,
Got me shedding,
Red from my pores.
Poetry so melancholy,
Must have been,
Written by;
Eeyore & Jim Morrison.
I take a cup &,
Pour a sin.
I sit amongst,
Foolish men,
At this bar where,
Broken hearts,
Wish to start again.
Borderline personality,
Rests within partisan,
That I am a normal,
Part of kin,
Who hasn’t been,
Frail & thin,
Drinking up with,
Drops of gin,
Running down my chin.
Pisces with a grin,
Minus the fins,
Minus the family,
And friends.
Could I remend?
That all depends,
If I can accept,
The light God sends.
Like I said,
It all depends,
On me;
Cause I’m the,
Only one keeping,
Myself from being free,
Imprisoned by mentality.

Where is my mind?
Where is my..
Who am I?
Every night I,
Go to sleep,
I die.
Wake up as,
Someone new,
Someone who,
Hasn’t a clue,
As to why,
A demon could,
Be gifted with,
Wings to fly.
Heaven sheds tears,
As the angels cry.
But there’s truth buried,
Within the sight of,
My eye;
I’ve just been,
Blinded by,
The presence,
Of my lie;
That one day I,
Be a good guy.
The opportunity,
Was there but,
In a sense;
My innocence,
Was too shy,
Now in a skillet,
Of temptation,
My flesh fry.
These the faults,
That iSpy;
When I get this high,
I realize my ties,
With reality,
Have yet to be,
I’m myself I get,
Chastised; I’mma,
Danger to both myself,
And everybody else,
Think it’s about time,
I get some help.
Been sitting;
At this banquet,
Of consequence,
A bad review for yelp.

This was written on a very misunderstood mental illness called Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). To understand more, check out the link below.

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