I take sleeping pills <br />to anoint the ache, <br />stay awake long enough <br />to feel myself float <br />out of mind- nirvana in a bottle. <br /> <br />Blessed are the forgotten and <br />holy are the gods <br />who are able to forsake them. <br /> <br />I read a book of poetry <br />it makes no sense, except <br />to my other self- <br />this lady who writes of ache and madness <br />is my sister- <br />she is the mother of all sadness. <br />I feel for her, <br />because I've grown numb <br />to my own emotions- <br />a way of survival. <br /> <br />They tell me: <br />if the depression doesn't cease soon, <br />I should seek counsel- <br />I think: <br />if the sorrow keeps on arresting my stability <br />I will seek refuge in silence, <br />shout out the voices of reason and cling <br />to the ones inside my head...<br /><br />Amberlee Carter<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/crawling-in-my-skin-the-eternal-itch/
