There are rooms inside my head where the lights flicker low.
Where voices rise like storms and tell me where to go.
I speak to empty air, but the air speaks back to me.
A private war I never chose, a battle no one sees.
I’m haunted by hallucinations, distressed by every sound.
My insight slips beneath me like unstable shifting ground.
I’m losing pieces of myself, losing love, losing friends.
But I keep walking through the darkness hoping something finally ends.
The meds slow down my heartbeat, steal color from my day.
Side effects like heavy chains I drag along the way.
Judgment fogs like winter breath on a cold and distant glass.
I watch my old life fading like a ghost I cannot grasp.
And the psych ward doors swing open like they know my name by heart.
I leave, I fall, I come back — always back where I start.
But I’m still searching for a sunrise that doesn’t disappear.
Still hoping for a future where my mind is finally clear.
Some days I’m talking to myself, some days I’m talking to the sky.
Some days I’m fighting shadows only I can identify.
People think I’m broken, but I’m trying to survive.
Trying to keep my heart awake, trying to stay alive.
And I know I’ll fall, I know I’ll break.
I know the meds will shake my hands and slow my pace.
But I’m still here, still trying, still holding on within.
Still hoping for the light that waits at the tunnel’s end.
I’ve lost some friends, lost some love, lost the person I once knew.
But every day I wake up means I get to try anew.
The ward may see me often, but it’s not where my story ends.
It’s just a place I go to heal before I rise again.
So if I stumble, if I wander, if I lose myself again…
Just know I’m still searching for the light —
and I believe I’ll find it in the end.
