This poem, My Bits, is about how I act when I don’t react fast enough to isolate myself from others, to protect myself & family from my anger, frustration, emotional rollercoaster. I get so blinded & aggressive as I feel people around me are mean to me, when in reality, it’s just the opposite. It’s a process, where I’m trying to learn to breathe & isolate myself when such situation arises. Sometimes I can & sometimes I can not.
I know you feel that I screw your head with my crazy snapping bit
Just don’t misinterpret by interrupting me, you’re making me insane & very sick
Just don’t tell me to leave or zip my lyrically slippery lips
I’ll then turn everything into gloomy shades of ashes, coz I’m simply so lit
So don’t make me glare at you with my demon eyes, your ground will burn & then split
I’ll spin my twisted pen to scribble alphabe(a)ts on your sensitive skin
I’ll flip out on you if you play plain judge when you sit on that judgemental seat
I’ll mentally hammer you down under the surface with the firing words that I spit
I’ll slit you into pieces with my edgy skills if you match my level of devil so big
So stay away from me before I pour your floor with the intense flow of my bleeding ink
I do trip every now & then when I keep loosing my weakend grip
I do hit hard on my ground & damage my brain, full of spots & pits
You see, healing with time is nothing but just a believable myth
If I’d simply sit back in my pit & wait for life to turn so slick
Nothing will ever change & I’ll remain a freaking sick
I’m trying to gather my pieces in peace to make a proper fit
So I’ll keep ripping my skin to stitch every single bit
To steer my unbalanced wheels for this wicked trip with no tricks
I promise, I’m gonna be around for the family in thick & thin
Jitter & sparks in my messy circuit but there’s no switch yet to make me quit
—– My Bits —–
My Bits is a poem, where I’m trying to gather myself after being provoked to the monstrous level. It’s like I get blinded by my rage & then it’s very difficult for me to come out of it, especially, if others try to match my noise level. I’m suggesting others to back off when I’m in this red zone. Talking about consequences, ordering me, raising voice or similar in that moment would only make the situation worse.
In the second half of the poem My Bits, it shows how I’m learning to observe the silence closely before the storm hits, to control my snapping. Writing poetry & talking about such matters openly, helps me to heal faster and it helps others to understand to a certain extent how I see the world when I feel imbalanced, angry, insane, numb & very sick at the same time.
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