Beautiful Mess

I am a mess,

All covered in pain, anxiety and distress,

My skin is all pierced with all the syringes' marks which won't ever disappear.

Everything is going out of control, there is nothing I can handle,

My life, a mess, looks like a silent political scandal.

Around here, its too silent and dark,

It feels a relief even when at night the dog barks.

In the crowd, it feels so quiet and lonely,

In a room, just full of me it feels too differently.

I was clumsily neat, inside -out.

I hardly checked on myself, talking me about my whereabouts.

Me thinks, I should sometimes check on myself,

Because we have health as our biggest wealth.

Just hanged in here, for a little sometimes,

Later, I met all of me and all of mine.

About this combat, I feel so bless,

I think, I was beautiful mess,

I am a beautiful mess.