As the sun rises in the east,
the sky fills with light.
Faded yellows absorb the dark hues of the night.
Gone are the blues and purples of darkness.

As the normal person wakes,
they make breakfast.
As I wake,
I ponder my own being.

Am I good enough?
The age old question that has been asked since the dawn of man.
I know the question will never be fully answered.
And I know I will have to live with the ugly truth,
I am not good enough.

As the sun grows higher into the sky,
your life long companion,
your shadow,
disappears.

The normal person is making breakfast,
but I am instead still forcing myself to sleep.
I cannot bear waking up.
I shove my feelings down my throat and force my dreams to appear.

I dream of a time when humanity was defined,
not by what they said on the internet,
but by what they did to help there friends.

I dream of a time when humanity had morals,
had beliefs,
but most importantly,
had love.

The sun begins to set in the west.
The bright colors of day begin to fade into the dark hues of night once more.
This amazing deep orange comes through the clouds in the distance.

The normal person is having dinner,
but instead I am looking out of the window in my bedroom,
which I haven't left in three days.
My heart and mind ache with thought.

My body feels like a waste of space.
It feels like god is taking his finger and pressing down on me.
I feel confined.
I feel detained.
I feel,
drained.

The sun falls back behind the houses in the distance.
Every scrap of light falls into darkness.
Nothing is left of the world.
Everything is consumed by this elusive creature represented by the lack of light.

The normal person is kissing their loved ones goodnight,
but I,
am alone.

I have gotten older.
At this point in time, I am where my mother was. I am caught between wanting to love someone and wanting to disappear from the face of the earth, between buying groceries or a few grams of creative fuel. Music is a necessity and sleep is no more than a luxury. There are nights where I wake up just to stare into the clocks eyes and although I tell myself to slip back into my dreams I cannot stop my right arm from reaching for a pen. By the end of the week, my recycling bin overflows with half-written letters and they all start the same but different
Dear mom, I hate you and
Dear mom, I miss you. I am just
Dear mom, I hope your next boyfriend has 16 ****** kids so that you are forced to remember the four biggest blessing you left behind
but there is one letter that I keep on my desk, inside an envelope with your address on it, sealed so that even if my fingers itch to revise and edit all the confusion I somehow found the strength to heave out onto paper; I won't.
it reads,
Dear mom,
I want to tell you I love you. I don't. I know I don't. But I do. I always will, that's just how life is. Life always will be. It's different for everyone. However, for us, life will always be arduous. At the end of the day, you and I don't make it any easier. I fight to feed, bathe, and protect the three younger miracles you brought into this world when you, you don't even bother to send a card on their birthdays. Your life always meant more to you. The motivation I have, the childhood I didn't keep me up at night. You've both robbed and driven me. I don't know whether to say ******* or thank you.
- your Firstborn

You are just as lovely
as a sunset,

Beautiful hues of pink,
seep from your pores.
Astonishing shades of orange,
flow from your hands.
Purple and blues
slide from your eyes.

But eventually the sun sets
and I will be left with black wishing for all those hues to come back.

k.w

What is the true meaning of freindship
Not to care how much money you have
Accept each other for who they are
Be there for them without wanting
anything
Enjoy each others company
making each other smile when we feel sad.
When life is stressful having a genuine friendship  makes the load
lighter.
I haven't experienced true friendship
but long for a true friend.

Oh don't mind me. I'll
just keep quietly dying
here out the inside

at times, i wish my eyes had only seen
horizon's haze of darkened clouds instead
ignored the sirens calling so serene
and burnt the bridge that carried off the dead
but i did not, and borne from what we hate
come roses blooming, bloodstains on the dirt
in time, they reach the same destructive fate
and we, the lowly seekers, reach the hurt
the heart we wear upon our sleeves is broke
with every tear, the stitches hold less deep
as time moves on, we try to quell the smoke
of fire raging just before we sleep

at times, i think we're better off as friends
but god, i hope the tempest never ends