Copyright ©1994 John Wm Beckner - All Rights Reserved
Life is wrong because it FEELS wrong Impossible to continue yet I MUST Crushing my chest, the great KING KONG Must WORK, can’t WORK, life’s not JUST MaNiC but depressed at the SAME time STRESS, the PAIN, will not ABATE A pit, recessed, I’ll never CLIMB DRUGS I need to SEDATE Yet drugs I never DO anymore CONCENTRATE, WORK, FOCUS, I must! Voices LOUD I must IGNORE In me I abhor, in God I TRUST So HARD to go on, yet I WILL But WHY I ask, when it is so BAD Call from the grave with voice so SHRILL Deluded, they say, I’m completely MAD The CHILDREN need me to go on Another day the world to ignore Go on I will, with FACE so drawn HELP me please I do implore I was wrong, no need to move forward Stagnate here, life’s a cesspool Hammers abound, my brain to bombard Such is my life, I’m just a FOOL
I wrote this on my first day in the state mental institution, committed there after attempting suicide while a patient in a hospital psych center. They had me heavily tranquilized and were experimenting with my meds, including stopping my bipolar meds. So, lots of confusion expressed in this poem.