Fighting With Myself
By Pete Malone
Heart racing, sweaty palms,
Knocking knees and trembling hands.
I feel the panic start to rise,
Tears are forming in my eyes.
It’s hard to face the waking day,
Not knowing what could come my way.
The sinking sand around my brain,
It pulls me in, that endless pain.
If only there was a way to tell,
How long I’d live this waking hell.
I doubt my thoughts, I doubt the facts,
I doubt I’ll ever get back on track.
In my mind white is black,
Up is down, forward is back.
It doesn’t matter what others say,
I interpret things in my own way.
The people I love, I push them away,
Scared to admit that I feel this way.
My temper flares, emotions high,
It gets too much and I can no longer lie.
The battlefield is my own brain,
The victory, the end of pain.
It’s not an easy fight to win,
But this time I will not give in.
The truth comes out, I spill my guts,
It must be said, no ifs, no buts.
Emotions should not be bottled up.
Those who care would never judge.
For some the medication works,
For others it’s the human touch.
Whatever works for you is unique,
But please don’t be afraid to speak.
Read more poems like this in our Poetry section.