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.

 
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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