I Want To Live Again

I want to live again,
Without feeling like I need to ask this wayward brain for permissions,
I want to live again,
As once I did,
A little more wise,
A little less destructive,
A little more happy,
A little less torn,
I want to be free of these troubles,
These blues that cry out for freedom,
These blues that are every shade of sadness,
Shall I be free,
From the unrelenting toll of progress,
While wearing cement shoes,
This devious and dark friend,
That is more enemy,
Yet remains the gift my intellect has given me,
Broken in three,
Two different solitudes,
With me in the middle,
Supposedly driving the bus,
Would that I could be a fool,
Would I,
Would you,
Should I,
For that price is too high,
So this pain,
Is the toll that I must pay,
On the highway of desolate regards,
This Black Dog is the one with which I must walk,
All the days of my life,
But I want to live again,
Truly live,
Without this passionate grasp of emotional fear,
My frayed nerves craving a moment without trembling fear,
For it must be fear,
Though I am not ignorant,
As I traverse these daily trespasses,
Hoping to discover,
The secret that makes three, one,
And one stand proud and strong,
Dominant me leading the charge,
Fighting the righteous battle,
Of my own indignation,
Towards the present that I’ve been given,
The gift of words,
The curse of the same,
Constantly traversing an ever changing line,
Towards myself,
That I am loosing control,
I am not in control,
Of these enemies that I must keep closer,
If I am to find the will not just to survive,
But thrive,
I want to live again,
As once I did,
Carefree and elegant,
Innocent and determined,
Finding my inner child is my liberation,
As Peter Pan floats through the air,
I no longer want to be shattered,
A fragment of a fragment,
A splinter of a shard,
A solitary piece of a broader whole,
No I want to reclaim my life,
Driving I and I,
Into I,
I want to continue down this path,
Paved not with good intention,
For surely I am already living in hell,
No this path requires good actions,
Constantly rewarded,
For making strides against this current of depressions dark river,
Filled with tears and sorrow,
Hanging over my head,
As Chicken Little squawks that the sky is falling,
Not falling chicken, not falling,
Sagging filled with a depth of morose impressions,
Just like my intellect,
In a war I fight to win,
But lose battles daily,
I want my life back,
I want to be free from this burden,
Free from this strife,
Free to roam with internal peace,
Forged on the back,
Of illnesses that none should have to face,
So I sit back,
And write my way back to sanity,
Or perhaps to insanity,
Either way,
One day,
I will be free,
I shall be free,
Let me be,


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