Raving mad

when they ask me how I feel,
raving mad
will be my response,
as if the soul were ablaze,
my capacity for love will outweigh
this rate of decay increasing within,
I'll lock away this rage
But embrace and save my sorrow,
just until 2morrow..
ill bury it deep beneath my grey faded skin,
Through multiple shots of vodka
And mass amounts of sin,
until then..I try not 2 care,
but find myself again..concerned,
while the world passes me by
I witness it slowly burn,
safe inside my glass box,
Is where I watch,
raving mad..
the clock ticks, time bends and pretends to exist but
never stops,
moments of severed thought pass in a brilliant,
blazing-burning flash,
allowing myself to dispel and collapse then finally
crack and crash before the world,
and when they ask me how I feel..
ill respond ;
raving mad.

This poem is about: 
Me

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