Amidst the mass of ways I must,
I carry a convulsion set to combust.
Trying to stand up tall,
Prepared to plummet to the ground
And wake to stares from all around.
My dreams sustain hope,
While reality drops me down a slope.
I search for assistance,
Hoping to find new light
While plunging into darkness with fright.
A puppet I am, made of something stranger
Pulled by strings of hope and anger,
Making me dance a dim-witted life.
The audience stares, trying to see,
But can’t feel the reality of being me.
The madness of trying to be the me I know,
Knowing, for now, it’s a performance show.
Time to break the strings that conduct how to be.
Contrasting waves intended to collide and shore,
It’s time to stand and settle life’s score.
Today, at dVerse, Laura encouraged us to write about our experience (real or imagined) with mental health. My life with neurological problems gave me my moments. Balance is hard to keep when you believe the positive and are fed the negative, the contrast too overwhelming to bear. I’ve come to believe moments of mental madness are passages to realization.