I’m Not The Man You See… – My Life #4

myself

 

I’m Not The Man You See…..

At a point in life,
Where I’m just existing,
Swallowed by the Jaws of Depression,
I’m sure this is not what you call “living.”
Deserted by happiness,
Became friends with sadness,
I accepted that as I’m rather reserved,
While questioning if this friendship was actually deserved.
Expert in self sabotage,
Done many wrong Doings,
As I stare at my reflection.
All I see is an anatomy in ruins.
A specalist introvert,
In the foetal position questioning survival,
And only me, myself and I
Know I’m no where near finished being suicidal.
A human being that is not being,
Inside my cranium is where I’m vocal,
Many things I want to do but cannot,
Due to the trait ive aquired of being antisocial.
At the depths of the sea,
I can’t invision this man getting much older,
Waiting for one mental illness to overcome another,
That’s why I think its an insult when the doctor only calls me Bi-Polar.
Imprisoned in this world,
Without having any convictions,
Restrained behind these bars,
Where I’m out of control of my decisions.
A dream to become unshackled,
A nightmare pondering “why,”
Well to my friends Depression and Sadness,
Remember you can’t kill someone who’s ready to die….

A Poem By Corey Booth 21/03/19

In The Shadows

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In The Shadows

In the shadows,
I stand there,
Not being perceived,
In the shadows,
Going nowhere,
With nothing achieved.
In the shadows,
I am hushed,
Not making a sound,
In the shadows,
I’m crushed,
Into the ground.
In the shadows,
Of society,
I’m a recluse,
In the shadows,
So silently,
Not letting loose.
In the shadows,
I’m isolated,
Observing all,
In the shadows,
Frustrated,
I begin to fall.
In the shadows,
Deserted,
Feeling ignored,
In the shadows,
Alerted,
And not adored.
In the shadows,
I explore,
Without a voice,
In the shadows,
Forever more,
Without a choice.
In the shadows,
My life,
Has become,
In the shadows,
My life,
Since it begun.

A poem by Corey Booth

Twitter – @CoreyPoetry

Depression

depression

Depression

Not wanting to live,
But not wanting to die,
Drowning in your own thoughts,
And wanting to cry.
Very low spirited,
Day after day,
Not being able to sleep,
When in bed you lay.
Irritable and impatient,
Feeling full of despair,
Even when you awake,
You’re in a nightmare.
Distancing yourself from others,
And finding it difficult to speak,
Thinking what is the point?
As the future seems bleak.
Wanting to self harm,
Battling with anxiety,
Listening to repetitive thoughts,
While sitting there so silently.
Tired with no energy,
You cant cope with the stress,
You cant make no decisions,
As your mind is a mess.
One in five get depression,
So alone you are not,
And you will get through it,
Even if your mind says you cannot.

A Poem By Corey Booth . . 🙂
Twitter – @CoreyPoetry

Some Days… -My Life #3

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SOME DAYS……

Having a conversation,
I’m the only one talking,
Embodied in a war,
In my mind it’s fought in.
Asking questions to myself,
Answered then unanswered,
Decided then undecided,
Right,left, always divided.
Anxious about being anxious,
Paranoid about being paranoid,
Depressed about being depressed,
Stressed about being stressed.
Questioning my questions,
Thinking of thinking,
Overthinking as the thoughts sink in,
Now I feel as if I am sinking.
This becomes more troublesome,
Not all understand as it only troubles some.
I guess some days,
Are better than some days,
And I hope someday,
The thoughts will go away,
Maybe one day…..

A Poem By Corey Booth 03/10/16
Follow @CoreyPoetry on Twitter 🙂

A Bipolar Point Of View

BiPolar_by_PinkDestroller

A BIPOLAR POINT OF VIEW

Bipolar is the name,
That’s what made her flip at her boss,
A conversation so little,
That made her feel so cross,

Her unshared beliefs,
Are what got her in the wrong,
One minute her mind was there,
The next it had gone.

She retreats to her home,
Thoughts racing through her head,
She is anxious and worrying,
Over all the stuff she has said.

At the time it was the correct way,
She was confident she was in the right,
I guess her poor judgement let her down,
Now she hopes it will be alright.

She continues to sit there,
Feeling euphoric and high,
One minute she’s calm and collected,
The next she is wanting to die.

Along with her risky behaviour,
She feels extreme irritability,
Feeling like a loose cannon,
Suicide is a possibility.

She finally heads out of the house,
To get booze and drugs to take away the stress,
At one point she was feeling like a genius,
Now she’s in a mess.

She buys excessively,
On things she don’t even need,
From clothes and toiletries,
To vodka and weed.

She goes back home,
And starts to hear things around her,
She’s starting to panic,
And the noise’s seem to grow louder.

These noises have been caused,
By her increased deficiency of sleep,
And her lack of concentration,
Which has made her mind very weak.

All of a sudden she is back on track,
Analysing what she has done,
Thinking about what she has caused,
And how it can be undone.

She has manic depression,
A character of two sides,
What she says isn’t in her control,
It’s her brain that decides.

A poem by Corey Booth – 30/06/13

Twitter – @CoreyPoetry