Slowly, 
They come to me, in my restless mind —
More than a thousand feelings intertwined. 
An unseen, unheard, menacing laughter then brews, 
Where every thought is a flame, and every silence a word. 

The words hide truths that no one hears. 
Am I the engineer of my misery? 
Or a lost passenger, 
Celebrating my “anniversary”? 

In the shattered mirror, I glimpse my face, 
where a mosaic of identities has found a wrong place. 
Who am I beneath this facade? 
Am I a riddle? Just one who merely nods? 

Schemas and lines, as psychology calls it. 
But in truth, a neuronal channel, 
where the mind is imprisoned. 
They hide the chaos, the silent wars, 
and all the battles fought behind closed bars. 

The cognitive distortions 
are a carousel that orders old thoughts in a new way. 
But self-awareness shatters that link, 
Exploring growth amidst one mere blink. 

As said: 
Mental health is a delicate thread. 
But hope is a lantern in the night, 
and what carves the path to inner light. 

Soon, 
Within the chaos, I find my place. 
Like a spirit unfettered by time or space. 
Each emotion, a chapter, each thought, a verse, 
In the library that is my internal universe.