A LETTER TO A FRIEND

I wish I had a rubber, one that would erase the past;
I wish I had a remote, to make the memories last.
I wish I had a rewind button, do it over again;
I wish I could escape my prison, my own mental little den.

I thought I was doing better,
I thought I had finally escaped;
But something brought it back to me;
A personality, maybe a trait.

But if this is the way I am meant to be, then I do not see the point;
I cannot fathom how I can be three things, good, bad and joint.
I know I have a heavy heart, I know that I can love;
But why is everything so hard, is this a message from above?

I just want to say sorry, I want to apologise and move on;
But even if everybody else could, I just don't think it could be done.
I can't forgive myself, for the way that I have acted;
I can't allow myself to be contacted without showing I've reacted.

STOP TELLING ME I'M INSANE;
I can see it for myself.
STOP TELLING ME I'M TO BLAME;
I already blame myself.

But that's not fair, you're not a saint;
And you have really hurt me.
But if I step back, and take the shame,
Maybe then I can be free.

I know that I am sad, and I know that I'm depressed;
But I will not tolerate you making me feel like I am repressed.
Do not tell me to speak to someone; when you have hurt yourself too;
Do not tell me to seek help, when you did not do it for you.

Can you not see it makes me angry, can you not see it hurts me deeply?
Can you not see it makes me sad, can you not see it makes me weepy?
Do you not understand the mind of someone fragile;
Possibly not because you appear to be so agile.

But why, oh why, are you so easy to destroy?
I'm not trying to play with you - I know you're not a toy.
It's just that once you were so strong, once you were able to hold my weight;
And now to tell you my sorrow or to hide my sorrow,
well that is a constant debate.

OPEN DOOR

Why have I become so sour,
Since when is it pain which brings joy to devour?

This is not recent,
I cannot blame it on your death.
This is not new,
These bitter words among my breath.

Is it innate, was it born from within?
If I want to reconcile, then where can I begin?

Why do I get so angry, so frustrated, so confused.
I feel like when I am breaking down, others get amused.

It is like people cannot fathom what it is like to lose control,
It is like they don't understand that my fractured mind won't make a whole.

I feel like I have bits, and pieces, and superglued parts,
All I want to know is when the madness ends, or maybe when it starts.

Perhaps I am the sane one, perhaps I have it in check;
Perhaps one day I will lose my mind,
Perhaps a broken concept.

I feel like I have something different,
A power I can't explain.
I feel like I get these sensations,
Ones that are running through my brain.

I didn't mean to hurt you, that was never my intention,
But before I apologise, there is one thing I have to mention;
I don't like it when you tell me I need help,
I don't like it when you scream, or when you yelp.
I don't like it when I kick you, and I don't like it when I punch;
But sometimes I feel like I'm stuck in a prison,
Like I am dining at some sort of messed up lunch.

My brain gets so fuzzy, its like I can't take a grasp,
I can't get any air, I can't even gasp,
It's like I'm sinking and I'm drowning, but I am not beneath water,
Once I had a mother, and to her I was a daughter.

There is a recurring pattern here, do you not think?
I knew for a long time that my mother was going to sink...
And that's not because she told me, and thats not because she expressed;
I don't really know what it was - but if she wasn't told she was stressed;
Maybe she'd still be here, maybe she'd still be alive.
It's all I ever wished for, was that she would survive.

You think I'm crazy, you think I'm mad, but I promise I'm just grieving,
All I want to do is to get rid of this mind-blocking feeling.

But then you'll say it isn't that, because I was like this before;
So I don't know how to explain it - maybe I'm just meant to be this way;
A screwed up open door.

MADNESS

Is it madness that consumes me,
Or do I consume madness?
Is it sadness that excretes me,
Or do I excrete sadness?

Do I mean to shed the blood I shed,
Or does the blood I shed mean to shed me?
Does it hurt you when I speak of my pain,
Or does my pain hurt you when I speak of thee?

Inside and outside,
Upsides and downsides,
A fragile mind can break in two,
Much more easily than it does for you.

I do not know why I have this pain,
I do not know where to place the blame,
I cannot fathom why my head does these things,
Or why my pain eases when the pain cries and sings.

To release the boils that bubble up within,
I cannot explain to you where to start or to begin,
But something inside my head is not right,
But there is beauty in madness, and madness in sight.