I grow anxious.
Demented thoughts fill this head.
Others, wanting me dead.
Dead, I seek others to make.
Then, a breath I take.
Prayers fill hates void.
No longer, angers voice with me toyed.
Whispers, careen from my skull.
My sharp wit, grows dull.
Sleep, a stranger still.
Even, slumber avoids this pill.
Night, friendless, alone.
Hope, is here in this home.
Praying, it’s all I am saying.
I’m praying, this will end.
I cannot give up, what I don’t have.
On prides wounds, daub a little suave.
I grow anxious, with this fight.
Still, it is only night.