Paranoia
There are eyes everywhere
There are bad whispers in the ears
There are palpitations at every turn
Need to rest the brain
Mute the buttons
Sew a new song
The eyes dart to and from
No rest till there’s no more
The bloodied fingers are too salty
Need a break
But the breakroom is full of littered thoughts
Down the poison
The drain is full
The thoughts are still there
Can’t run away
The cats are their emissaries
The lips chapped from the drought
Too much is fraught
Pass the pill
Pray for tomorrow
No escape
The route is continuous
The bumps purposeful
The falls dreadful
The locks bite
The key is key
But who will turn it?
Paranoia
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Categories: Culture, Humor, identity, mental health, Poetry, Psychology, weird





Your poems this week make me wonder if you have already lost the spring in your step. I hope not!
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