I think I am home,
but perhaps not.

I live in two worlds,
one dark and one light.

I reside in darkness,
where my mind encounters
the black terror that is worry.
And, I fight with myself
over if I should do this
or that.

I am the shade, creeping
into every corner of my mind.
But, the noise doesn’t stop
like the incessant roar of traffic.
It only wanes a little, and
leaves me when I sleep.

So, what of the light?
Every once in awhile
it washes over me like rain.
Then I guess I’m happy,
or supposed to be at least.
Yes, I can be cheerful, but
what’s the use?

I know sorrow
much better than joy.
I know every curve
of pain’s face,
every nuance
of the forsaken heart.
Tell me I do not belong,
here in constant strife.

Danielle Shaeffer