Drowned Personal Disorder

Upon the wet rock, my mind's tide collapses, 
Fingers numb and
Quickly crushed by hoofs of my 
Oppressor
A possession assumed temporary
As why should priests pray
When my own cross drowns me
For I am weak.
Not a branch in my tree, but mere twigs
Broken and unfixable
Sprawled willingly before
A crimson visage of Hamlet
Wearing my own mask,
And, should my own horns break in my back,
I shall put myself on trial
Though hours pass, I stay on the rock
Slipping
Further
Into
My handmade illness
I feel a demon's weight
Born by others
Who blame me for such a wretch
While onyx water and floating stars slap my legs
As my digits snap
I look through rainy stained glass
Upon a sleep, and I'm worried
To sleep,
To dream,
And by a sleep, I let loose my body's guard, 
Inviting the scarlet mirror to tear at my blood
Though I am told my waters are clear,
I feel the rapids 
My eyes bear witness to a
Goat on broken twigs
And I hear my demon cry
Category:Poetry
Category:Demon/Devil
Category:Mental Illness