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.)