Grey Clouds

Some of us struggle with opening up and being emotional. Others of us struggle with simply understanding emotion. In this poem Jack offers his experience with emotions while dealing with Psychopathy.


He set aside all preconceptions
Coming in objective
But it’s trouble wording what he feels
Not what he wants, that’s real
The words strain to be formed and heard
Brought from the world of thought
Closed off but not caught
Lost somewhere in the catacombs
He calls it home
Where his imagination roams
Where the monsters inside his dome
In a cold old dark house grow
Thus the voices chime in noiseless
Chanting realities he knows are
Sadly what really goes on happening
It’s maddening
Frantic and shaky the panic state he mistakenly thinks is fate finally taking him
But it’s not he’s fine he’s great
It’s just a little mistake
He tosses in the can and follows it up with gas
Lit match and that’s that
No trial will take place while this self-made prison remains
Ingrained in his brain is the shame for the chains restraining him
Trying to bend steel is draining him
Leaving nothing left to feel
Life stops feeling real
He questions whether then was now
Would there be a difference if he found out?
Would there be words to sound out?
His tight chest can’t scream loud enough to be heard
It’s choking on caged rage as it burns hate
He won’t say it
He wouldn’t know if he tried
It’s like he already died
It’s like he’s not even trying
It’s like he’s trapped in his mind
It’s like life’ll flashed by and he’ll be on the other side having gone nowhere before dying
Having said nothing before goodbye