Im sitting here like it was yesterday.
It wasn't.
Duh.
My nails weren't black yesterday
I wasn't as insecure yesterday.
But even though I got new habits.
And new records.
And a new reason to feel sad.
I feel like nothing has changed.
He is still complaining.
She is still annoying.
And I am unamused.
So I ask myself why.
Why is the past so prominent.
Why is the present so dull.
Why can't I change it.
But I give up.
Like I always do.
And I complain about it.
And I call it poetry.

It's been one year since I admitted that missed you.
And I know I ****** up.
And I know it wasn't just me.
And I know so much has changed,
And I want to keep you close.
It's been so perfect with you by my side.
We can do this.
I know we can.

Another way to say I need help is to say “I’m fine.”

Summer slits throats so sit up straight while I sing songs of sadness to suffering souls and saints of speaking minds.


Alliteration is consistency, and I need that in my life right now.

Words of negativity are scraping and clawing against the inside of my skull.
Hoping to leap off my pessimistic tongue and plant seeds of sadness in the minds of others.

But I hold my tongue.
Like I hold onto hope.
Because I know it’s still there.
I just have to repress the haunting thoughts.

My brain is the strongest muscle in my body,
only because it works so hard to repress my tongue.
My heart is in the right place,
but my fists are always balled.

But I hold my punches.
Like I hold onto smiles.
Because I know that people care.
I just have to repress my anger.

Rage and depression go hand in hand.
But i’m fine with that because they help me write.