2016
My head’s a mess at the moment,
And I know it’s not right.
Because when I am right I’m a queen.
A God damn queen.
I sit on my thrown
And know it’s my own.
I get shit done.
I get results.
I fucking own the joint.
But now,
What am I?
Certainly nothing to have in a royal court.
No wonder I hate myself.
The queen hates uselessness.
And that’s what I am now.
A useless mess of a head
And a head of a mess.
It’s so easy to hate yourself
When you’re so easily two people.
Two polar opposite people:
A queen,
A prisoner.
But if I’m a prisoner, then who’s holding me
hostage?
A prisoner can’t hold themselves hostage.
Or can they?
If I’m holding myself hostage I’ve lost the key.
It can’t have gone far though because my mind
hasn’t left the cell.
Except for that one time I considered my future:
An education,
A career,
A court room,
A kingdom to call home.
I didn’t spend much time there.
Doubts disguised as reality brought me back
To my cell;
My scarily spacious cell.
I share it with twenty years worth of daemons.
They don’t even hide anymore,
They make themselves known:
As shackles,
As guards,
As darkness,
As coldness,
As hardness
I must have left the key out there with my future
dreaming.
But I can’t get it back now.
Not now.