Room 49

poem by: Chel Scott
Written on Aug 16, 2018 

Clutching at reality,
until my knuckles are white,
round and round in my head,
I swear, I'm not quite right!

I daydream all the time,
imagine I'm from another place,
I have delusions of grandeur,
like I'm made of silk and lace.

It's all stars and unicorns,
where the insane go for free,
where I'm married to Tom Hardy,
fuck, why fight for sanity?

One day, I may wake,
and see reality is quite glum,
until that happens, I'm happy here,
in room 49. The Asylum.

 

Tags: Humor,

Add Comment

 

 

More by chel scott

...
The Ritual

poem by chel scott

Moisturise my face, wash my hair, pluck my eyebrows, with great care. Plenty of lipstick, define my eyes, a bit of shadow, a kind of disguise. Oh, what I suffer, the time I take, I wish I looked like this, just as soon as I... Read more

...
Verse

poem by chel scott

I stare at the blank page, waiting for the words to appear. They are in my head, all a jumble. All rushing to be the first word wrote. I try to fathom what they mean, try to put them into some order. It's no good. I'll have to... Read more