Poems by Kestral Kelly
In my head
In my head a world takes flight.
It’s like a dream, in darkest night.
We argue, talk, and sometimes sing,
Sometimes just discuss everything.
Some days we wished we lived alone,
that voices we’re only on a phone,
that meditation cleared my head,
that I didn’t pop a pill for bed.
Sometimes we write, sometimes we fight,
Sometimes I wish they would take flight.
It’s out of sight,
So no- one cares,
no matter what my alter shares.
At least that’s how it seems to feel
If I sit and question; Is it real?
But if I’m good, and say it’s not
They say I’m hot.
- It’s all I’ve got.
Why they lie, I do not know,
for them, it’s like my life’s a show.
I’d like to explain, but what to say?
they never listen anyway.
So back to negatives we fall,
Sometimes you have to Question All.
Doctor it’s time
Doctor it’s time that you learned,
respect aint given unless it’s earned.
So can you listen when I speak?
Your understandings pretty bleak.
New Sci-en-tist; you should-
Subscribe, then maybe you could
Understand that psychosis
Is your thoughts, your diagnosis,
atleast that’s closest…
Refusal to believe in fact
Presented to you in a pack
of information, peer reviewed;
even been on the TV news.
That black box you claim,
makes me ‘Insane’-
Was patented; I’ll show again-
the facts and maybe then you’ll learn
that learning things; Respect you’ll earn
By listening, respect may grow,
But listen ‘cuz I actually know.
This is my forte, and my forum,
psy-chol-olgist, with decorum.
A desire to know more;
What brought me to your door.
So listen when I talk with you
-I am a patient patient, true,
But I won’t trial drugs for you.
Something steady for my mood
Here go doc, some ‘Mental’ food.
I’m sorry that I couldn’t find
a way to fix myself,
I’m sorry that the doctor says
I can’t do this myself.
I’m sorry that I’m reaching out;
I have nowhere to be,
Nobody in my whole darn life cares a lot about me,
I’m sorry I’m calling again,
but I am pretty worried
your face looked pretty friendly
So I really had to see
if you have time could lend a hand
because I’m terrified
of facing them again, last time, it tore me up inside.
So, I’m sorry that I’m calling you
but this place makes me feel
I’m helpless, hopeless, dreamless and more
I’m grasping at straws; what am I in for?