Rigor Mortis

Depressing, reality, not a feel good poem.

The blood in my veins is stale

And every bone is strong as thread,

But I am neither fragile or frail-

I am just the living dead.

 

I am not going insane-

I have no sanity to lose!

And I'm too numb to feel the pain,

Even though life is one big bruise.

 

So phone the therapist

And fill my cabinet with pills,

Though the shrink won't get the gist,

I'll still pay his bills.

 

I'm immortal; the dead can't die,

Feel my pulse- there's nothing to feel!

And no matter how hard I try

To mend my heart . . . there's nothing to heal!

Author's Note

I was going through a rough patch when I wrote this poem, and I hope it's not too too depressing- I'm mostly hoping that people will be able to relate, and say they don't feel like this anymore.

Reviews

[cfix]

Wow this is depressing! There was once in my life time I used to sit around with a knife and thinking I was going to end my life cause i wasn't wanted here on earth. Now days I can gladly look back and say I am glad I didn't. By the way excellent rhyme scheme.

[Sweet & Tender Hooligan]

A honest and powerful insight into your inner turmoil and soul.
I too would feel like this sometimes and have harmed myself in the past.
Writing those feelings out I find helps.

[Lenard L. Banks III]

Beautiful write.