Sidor

20 oktober 2011

No line, no line to follow.


There is no line for me to follow.
In a wood full of monsters.

All day.
All night.
I'm fighting against them.
All alone.

Sometimes, there is someone.
In that dark.
Who gives me an helping hand.
Someone,
who can see all the monsters,
that I see.

I'm fighting against my disease.
All day.
And all night.

And if you dare call me weak.
I'll punch you in your face.
Just to show you.
One minute in my world.

I'm sick of being sick.
I'm sick of my diagnosis.

I'm sick of psychotic nights.

I'm sick of hurting everyone around me.
I'm sick of hurting husband.

I'm sick of letting my husband taking care of me.
Those nights.
Those days.
When I'm the worst.
When I feel the worts.


Every day.
I'm fighting against razorblades.
Of taking to many pills.
Of hurting my self.

Most of the times.
I win.
Now.
Today.
I won.

I won against self injury today.

But what about tomorrow?
The day after that?


How much more,
Can I stand?