I didn't but I did.

I need some on to know I AM GOING INSANE!!

I didn't write a novel on the way my life should be,
Never took to being a journalist as a part time job.
Always forgot to wave my hand above the crowd,
When I was surrounded by more than a happy mob.

I didn't break a torch - I just learnt to lose the light,
Always stumbling in grief and sorrows direction.
Forgetting which track; that had already been taken,
Forgetting a umberella when I needed protection.

I didn't leave the light on; for people to find me,
But I left a note pad of stories based on my life.
Nobody will take the time out; to read it all there,
Just look at my arms and you'll know I used a knife.

But I did enjoy the time that I had on this earth,
All the way through the sicknesses and in the poor.
Yet, I stood sheepishly with my back towards you,
Hoping you would get the hint, I can't do it anymore.

Author's Note

*Don't rate this poem or comment this poem. It's not a poem to me. It's just something I needed to write about, down somewhere, where I know people will see it. message me*