As I sit here on the bed
Pondering about mood swings and emotional rides my mind takes me on
I cannot think but to compare it as a lunatic strapped tightly to a wild rollercoaster ride headed to nowhere
Next to the one of my ears is a megaphone Hooked up into the inner workings of my twisted perception of the world, people around me, their intentions and my perception of the inner workings of their minds
It screams in wide ranges of intensity, distortion and unpredictably
To the other of my ears there's the palm of my hand and imagination of my own self
Whispering Intrusive, toxic, threatening words of faliure, weakness, worthlessness
I cannot hide, shelter myself from my own self, divert or lover the volume of the voice that is me and my consciousness
I toil away at the job I have
Each day a new hurdle, another failure and another disappointment
Try my best and as much as I can to hold the bridle of the horse I'm riding
The thin line between the riding and being ridden as the horse against my will is often blurred.

Excuse my English it's not a first language.