Dying inside (Poem)

I come to bed at night and think
of misery that comes my way
Often not in physical form
but through my thoughts and mind instead,

A deepest darkness fills inside
And there is no real clear escape
When little things make major mountains
out of stupid little molehills that
mean much more than perhaps they should.

If folks could know when dealing with
the sadness that their comments bring
it’s just a number, that’s all it is
But to me it is my life
when you grab on to little things
those molehills put you into strife

I’ll never get my contentment back
those days are far and gone for good
I’d say I’m dying here inside
But death has come. My heart. No thud. 

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Am I mad? [Poem]

Am I mad?
I think I might be.
Is that bad?
Well more than likely. 

I met a fish
His name was Bob. 
He told me things. 
Hmm, that’s kinda odd. 

A fish that talks?
Okay that’s crazy 
But that little dude… 
…he was so lazy. 

I counted daffodils. 
They made me smile. 
I do like yellow. 
It’s back in style. 

You know they danced?
In front of me…
But I’m not queen. 
Not Freddy Mercury. 

I think I’m mad. 
But I don’t feel blue. 
It’s kind of fun. 
You could be too. 

No more meetings [A poem]

No more meetings
i’ve really had enough
I work really hard
And these are really tough

I feel like im wasting
minute after minute
And frankly I don’t care
because my heart was never in it

I’d rather meet a girl who
I could talk about the world with
a little feminine touch is
Something I could get with

I never have the time
man I’m really always busy
I’d love to play the game
Even get into a tizzy

But all i’ve got is meetings
with some time to check my emails
My days they fly on by
my life is truly derailed.

Life

I’m lying in bed at quarter to nine;

And I see nothing wrong with it. 

I’m lying in bed at quarter to nine

And there’s nothing to do but wait. 

The parts of my day are grouping together 

And on them I reflect somewhat. 

My day it did feel like it went on forever 

A day where my brain did not stop. 

Anxiety; it fills all the time I have left

The time when I’m not working hard. 

It feels like I’m victim to some horrid theft. 

But that’s life; it’s a movie quite marred.