Mind Never Mine by Alejandro N. Marrero 5/14/2020
I’m mortified by what fear has molded me into becoming
There’s a bipolar uprising between choices of sloth, yoga and running
I want to pull out my hair when I’m torn from my routines
I feel guilty for no reason or maybe several and never know what it means
Why am I thawing till mid day then wilting by evenings high peak?
Why is it more comfortable for me to write my thoughts that to trust myself enough to speak?
My thoughts play Russian roulette with my unpredictable and varying moods.
It seems sometimes the only thing good about me is what I prepare for food
I’m paralyzed but mobile in a sense as I spend so much time gripping my tablet in bed
I try and be productive but no matter what I do I want to get out of my head and end up back where I started instead
I’m good at giving advice to friends and even mildly acquainted strangers
Yet the advice is forgotten and hard to follow when I’m presented with the same exact dangers
Is this what my life will be like for the rest of its quickly passing years?
Clutching amulets and wishes for cures to all my boundless fears.
I don’t want to always be doing something to prove my worth.
Yet it feels like the world judges you for what you earn and so forth
I’m mortified by the mania that lives in my mind
You ask if anything’s wrong and I forgot so rapidly I’d say never mind it’s just a rhyme.