Poetry is my sport (well whadya want I am sorta a couch potato)

Asylum

weary my tired eyes, peruse some bleak horizon
sleepless in the night, who to confide in
stumbling as I sleepwalk, through this daydream life
who knew that daydreams could be nightmares
trapped by fetters within my mind
prisoner of the things I should have left behind
torment all begins and ends with my friends
leaving me wondering how I got into this mess
and comprehension comes at the hands of strangers
opening gateways in my soul I never could see on my own
I am the sum of all my parts, the good, the bad, and the madness.......