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Writer's pictureScoops Parade

A Poem About What It's Like to Live in My Head

It's hard, but I try


Do you know what it's like...

To lose your mind and give up hope?

To be a prisoner who cannot cope?

Have you ever felt like you've lost your way?

Or struggled to get up and live each day?

I do.


I've distanced myself from family and friends,

The reality I live is through a distorted lens.

My thoughts are irrational, but to me, they are real,

From the way that I think to the way that I feel.

It's hell.


The invisible monster that lives within,

Can be controlling, lying - a parasitic twin.

I can't shake it off. I just try to survive,

There's no way to win and come out alive.

But I try.


It's been years of torment, anguish, and fear,

That misleading voice is still all that I hear.

It's painful, harmful, maddening, and cruel,

Like being the devil's puppet, just a suffering fool.

I fade.


Doctors, medications, hypnosis, and prayer,

All fight the good fight to rid this despair.

My body is broken, my mind is shot,

At the end of the day, this is all I have got.

And it's hard.


"I'm here for you. This too shall pass",

The words of the public chanted en masse.

"We all have hard times, but we have to move on,"

You seem to forget that my mind is a con.

It tricks me.


My eyes dehydrate me. My bones deny food,

A constant battle within as I waste in this feud.

I've lost so much love, I'm not sure what I feel,

Sadness and misery become my last meal.

I'm numb.


But despite all of this, aside from this hell,

Regardless of the times that I shout out and yell.

There is hope for me, all is not lost,

I'm here, and I'm fighting, no matter the cost.

I breathe.


The hardest part is being seen, validated, and heard,

For this hidden disease is always deferred.

You can't put a bandage on what you can't touch,

No splints, no casts, not even a crutch.

So I wait.


I express, I create, I share my portrayal,

Any which way to rid this betrayal.

Don't try to understand; just listen and accept,

Life can be hard, so support those who wept.

I will.


Thank you for listening and taking the time,

It does mean a lot that you read every line.

Now you know what it's like to live in my head,

Do excuse me, my friend, for I'm going back to bed.

Goodnight.


*This article was adapted from a Twitter thread by ScoopsParade*

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