Look left
Look right
Look down
Death blight
Look left
Look right
Look up
No sight

I want to see colour
But all I can see is grey
Though I think you’ll find
I’m not even colourblind
As it is my mind
That refuses to perceive
All ten million colours
The human vision can see
Though why is this how it has to be?

I feel like I’m watching myself
Watching my very own life
On a black and white television
Through a second person perspective
“You think you are defective”
Every scene acted out
Viewing in from outside
With a powerful voice coercing
Forcing me to abide
Commanding my every move
Controlling the tide
So that my life can run all “smooth”
But Mr Voice is quite uncouth

I know I’m not completely crazy
I know the voice is only internal
Though he always likes to call me lazy
But he demands me to be nocturnal
It makes my life just feel so hazy
Forever trying to keep me awake
I can hardly even see
What is right in front of me
A heavy fog surrounds so thick
But I’ve got to keep moving quick
As over exposure will snuff my wick
My flame will cease; my clock won’t tick
My heart will bleed; I’ll become sick

I’m always pretending
Acting in a movie
That is never ending
The timeline of my life
And my reality is bending
I call out for help
But the message isn’t sending
I’m left on read
With a reply ever pending
Fighting for my life
I am left here fending
Nothing I can do
No way of mending

I’m falling apart
Wait, fallen apart
No longer can I
Pull along this cart
Full of hardship
Full of pain
Filled to the brim
With trauma untamed
And when I try to dive deep
I receive the cane
I feel so pathetic
Unsure if it’s all fallacy
But it starts to rain
And then I know for sure
That I look so lame
I feel it in my core

The demons gaze at me
Like they’ve drunken malice tea
A beverage filled with pure hate
Only my spilt blood
Will fully satiate
Their thirst
And their hunger
Because they feed on my worst
My thoughts and my feelings
All my troubled dealings
The times that I reached up
And hit into glass ceilings
Halting any further ascension
A layer of see through prevention
And guarding it is a figure that I should mention

“Stop right there criminal scum”
The metaphorical officer is holding a gun
Pointing it my way so I make for a run
I’m shot seven times; set to serve a hefty sum
Now I’m locked in my mind gaol
I haven’t eaten in a week
I’m feeling pretty bloody frail
My heart starts to grow slow and weak
One more day and it might just fail
The gaoler begins to spin around his flail
And again, for another time it hits my back
Causing the last and final crack

I fall to the floor
I’m bleeding out
I’m dead inside
I can only pout
All other forms of expression
Have been stricken from my vocabulary
Left to rot; to suffer in depression
Seeing through the lens of melancholy
I am forced to be a one trick pony
And again, all I can see around me is grey
Making everything just feel so phony