All the Things Inside Me

I am a flea who is restless
I remain unseen, yet I am always there
I sleep in the crevasses of the mind

I am an eerie glow that clings to the world
Because through my eyes
I never know what is real and what is not
I scream because its the only sound I can make to draw attention

I am the harp of a violin, played to make you weep
I am the sound of a dying soul

In my bones and through my veins
The flames of a dull fire flow
Which are harmless
Until I am force-fed a strong glass of kerosene

When I speak, people rarely seem to listen
They think that what I say, its tainted
They don't know that the words I speak
They are all my truths
All my attempts to prove my innocence

I am dressed in a straight jacket
Forever wrapped inside myself
Trapped in the confines of my own mind

I take my poison in a shot glass
It spreads through my veins like light through a dark room

I'm solely convinced I have maggots

That they lie beneath my skin

And eat away at my mind

It's why people look
And point
And whisper
They say "Look at that man,
see him over there?
He's living proof
that insanity exists."

And I say, maybe it actually does