Escaping The Depressing Asylum of My Mind
by Charles Nnanna
Imo, Nigeria
my mind has become as an anthill;
thoughts climbing and descending in a rush
like water through a broken fountain.
fate has stretched its hand from across the horizon
and put a sword on the thin thread that held these thoughts together
and I'm brought into the courthouse of my own subconscious
where I'm dismissed as insane
and thrown into a depressing asylum.
...said my thoughts will be safe in there.
yet I'm drowning, everyday,
sinking into a pit dug without hands,
hoping for sea patrols to see my fading hand hanging above the water,
or a dolphin to hear my voiceless call for help
and carry me from these waters of despair and broken promises
to a haven where my regrets and ugly past wouldn't matter anymore.
or perhaps I'll be rejected by this steaming water of hopelessness
and spat out on the shores of hope once more.
wouldn't be my first rejection,
but it's one I pray for.
hopefully my worries will be washed at sea
and my mind be made into a clean slate
or a metal pad wherein my resolution to keep paddling to the future will be inscribed,
and the sharp sword of fate would never be able to tear this pad apart.
Charles Nnanna
Charles Nnanna sees poetry as a gist partner. A very close one. One with which he discusses the many things that happens both in the mind and outside of it — and so he's always with a pen and paper, even when in bed. Helps him to easily scribble whatever comes to mind at any point in time at all. He has been published in a few anthologies and literary journals. He lives and writes from Abuja, Nigeria.
Header Image by Ian