Ward

Sunken ships never rise,
so why should I.
Yellow tinted windows,
the carpets are torn.
I'm rolling into madness,
tiny paper cups float along the floor.
White pills n happiness.
The doorways behind me now,
tiny pale hands stretched towards mine.
The whites in your eyes,
they are screaming.
I don't want to why cant I move.
Stencils throughout the halls,
trees are painted on their walls.
The branches are crying out,
their leaves floating away.
A loud bang behind me.
The darkness is coming,
the drugs are breaking me.

It was the drugs.

Waking up to the clouds on my ceiling,
wonder why I never get a sunny day.
So I lie here waiting for the rain,
the calm before the storm's so nervous.
The restraints on my wrists are cursed,
the black magic keeps my spirit contained.
Sometimes I just wish that I could fly,
slow climb with a quick descent off the high rise.
I float until I fall, coming down.
Here comes the man,
tiny paper cups float away.

It was the drugs

Reviews

[eglantine]

I def know this emotion...all too well. You did a great job of capturing the thought process of being in that type of state. No need for the last line. Better to end on that image of the paper cups floating away.