...Wrought

By SolApathy

Half charred thoughts brought me to this page
Writing with what is left of my diminishing rage
Trapped in the spiraling thoughts of the damage I wrought
Within a moment, brief
Burning all that was to be
I cannot control that which is not, me…
Trapped in the shadows of the drugs that are to keep me in check
Instead their darkness—infects
Every thought I try to compose
The pills decompose
Breaking down barriers I built to protect our love
Now only jagged glass, broken on the floor—I cannot get through
Need to stop the runaway train; recapture my brain
If only it was that easy
Doctors inject me with despair;
Whispering that it’s a cocktail of “I don’t care”
I feel the knot of something wrought with empty
Stealing the pain away
And with it the care that I lost you
…Today

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Published on Wednesday, March 15, 2017. Filed under: "Poetry"

Author's Note:

...In the drugs I found my escape; it became my despair and now I can never...care

Comments on "...Wrought"

On Wednesday, March 15, 2017, Drea (1388) wrote:

The title is perfect. You could taste the despair. Like I said, you always bring so much. This was good.