I have always been misunderstood.
But it has always been about love.
My mind is a forever storm
and nothing can stop it.

I tried to be something else.
Something my own person.
I never did fit in
Always been an animal
who was always medicated

Tried to create something special.
Something I could leave my mark on.
Something that would define me.
It only isolated me.

Always been alone.
Had love, lost it.
Had friends, lost them.
Made mistakes, lots of them.

Wrote books, no one seemed to care.
Not a lot of friends.
Too much in my mind to take.
All negative thoughts took me.
Medications put bandaids on me.
I became the worst person
but tried to be a good person
and lost myself in a cerebral prison.

So this is the last poem,
If there is another one- I hope there might be.
Maybe a soul cleansed.
I wish it could be.

But the thing about poems,
they are never read right
and I have lost the fight.

 

Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly. His third book, Train of Thought 2: Almost Home is available now at the Oddball Book Store.