isalittlebroken

It’s inside me, benevolence.

Behind aged bars, in a prison cell of my methodical design.

Hope, love and humane concern in a locked cage while the world burns.

I am my own malicious jailer.

The warden of woe.

Harsh consequences, under the self-imposed draconian rule.

Set ablaze my soul,

I don’t want it anymore.

So many wasted words spoken.

Now my mind has collapsed inwards with a medicated intrusion.

It is a little broken.

For the truth of this poet's life, is I have over one persona and recollection of none.

I am a soul hoarder, diagnosed with

Dissociative identity disorder

I am them; they are I

This is my truth.

Stuart isalittlebroken Johns