Awareness

Awareness, created by no hands beyond my own. This emotion, seen as good, encapsulates my mind. My sanity akin to sinking in quicksand alone For I find awareness and loneliness entwined. The torment my thoughts are, how do I explain without air? My memories of a past where my sense of self was somewhat understanding. Attempts at healing only bring awareness of the hopeless sea of disrepair. No English word is close enough to explain the war my mind is battling. To be aware of one's own wit is; in my opinion, not a gift, more so a curse. Ignorance is a blessing, they say, to which I agree. Beware of your endeavors to understand too deeply, for this hell can not go in reverse. Clinging to my waning memories, begging on my knees to go back to being carefree. Be careful when exposing your soul's flame as an overthinker. For melancholy, you can snuff it out in a flicker.