My Being Is A Battlefield

I’m a prisoner of my body.

I want to claw out of my skin.

I’m uncomfortable with being me.

I just want to evaporate into the air,

A stranger’s acknowledgment is my biggest fear.

I don’t want this body to be mine.

It holds my soul hostage in order to keep itself alive.

The demons want my body’s gold,

They terrorize me every second.

I keep that in mind as I wonder if I should mine my blood,

And take liberation as my payment for it.

Then, maybe, I’d be free from the merciless prison.

I’m a slave to my soul.

Why can’t I be a better person?

The devil in me just can’t help but being vile,

Vile towards anyone who comes off as divine.

But how can I blame it?

It’s forced to stay here in submission,

After it was sent here without any consent.

I’m forced to feel its resentment towards this world,

And feel its oppression.

The saints of high are calling it in,

But the devil within me is refusing to let them win.

Refusing me to give any supplication.

I’m at war with my mind.

I’m told happiness is ‘only something you can create’,

While it is telling me otherwise.

Depression is not a decision,

Nor is it fixed by an adjustment of your attitude,

Or a change of your views.

It is very contradictive;

Why don’t you just let go of this life?

But, wait.

Don’t go.

At least not just yet.

Have you seen the sky today?

Have you smelt the roses?

Let’s just be happy right now,

And leave the sadness for later.

Maybe even go a little mad.

Slam your fist through your kitchen wall,

Screaming ‘There is no God!’

Only to pray to him for forgiveness,

And ask him for guidance.

I cry as time dwells on.