I am dissociative and confused

I wonder what language angels speak

I hear explosions in faraway lands

I see the shadows move

I want a deeper sleep

I am dissociative and confused

I pretend that I’m okay

I feel indestructible

I touch the waves of sunlight

I worry I will fail as a parent

I cry when babies die

I am dissociative and confused

I understand death

I say God is real

I dream I’m dying alone

I try not to swear about it

I hope for continued sobriety

I am dissociative and confused

(I wrote this poem in my journal some time ago. I’ve seen many “I am…” poems, and I never understood their significance. That is, until I wrote this. It is simple and complex, and it forced me to look at myself critically. Thanks for reading.)