Dear Psychiatrist

Dear Psychiatrist,

I am trying to achieve a sense of accomplisment by writing these lines.

I fear the bad habits are waiting to mug me around the corner ,

I cannot feed off memories for a lifetime.

My cynical criticism spits on my current state of abilities

Suppressed by my own loop of emotions.

A Riot , A Commotion.

A continuum of injustice ,degrades hope.

I am the wrong man , with the right fists in the wrong fight.

Drought by Myopia.

Would you truly believe what i perceive?.

Posterize my unrecognized and unsatisfied face.

I need to reach a complete optimity of a particular emotion in order to reach the complete flow of simplicity in my focus.

The identity of the Saviour and the helpless have been lost in my mind.