Poetry

I wrote this today.  It describes how I feel right now and when my mental illnesses act up:

No rhyme or reason, yet mental treason.
Anxiety hits me as I start my day, not matter what I can say. Behind this smile on my face, is holding back tears trace.

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Creative Me

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The psychotic screaming, strong and manic, just got louder. He kept saying something. That I need to be aware or beware. I’m not sure. As the two dragged him away, he kept saying that I can’t lock him away. More terrifying screaming. Before they shoved him in the room, glowing with a candles and lined with books, he said that I am a part of him. The screaming got louder and louder as they shut the door. I could still hear him behind the door screaming, locked away in there. He was right. He is a part of me because this all happened in my head. I can’t get rid of him. I hope to lock him away for good. I never want to become him. I don’t want to admit that is part of myself. For now, it is subdued. I can relax, for now.