I fail to be satisfied

There is boring

I find nowhere to be my home

Here is too relaxed

Paranoia and desperation

Creep up from deep inside

Delusions of my friends as enemies

Cynicism and pessimism

Cloud my vision

Angels become monsters

Demons become saints

My hope flees fast

I'm left alone

Trapped within my conscience

Losing shape and form

Questions reeling round and round

My tired confused mind

I cower and hide,

As a tortured rodent

Shirking trepidatiously away

From even the gentlest touch

My mind is my enemy

But my heart is my friend

They should both be in agreement

With my soul, for,

My soul must surely know what's right.