We check under our beds
for monsters but
don’t check for the ones
living in our heads.

She woke me up
this morning
when I overslept.

She brought a cup of tea.

When I opened my eyes
she wasn't there.

Nor was the tea.

I bought myself a pencil.
I had a lot to write.
I bought myself a notepad too
it was a gleaming white.

I started to write upon it
but the words were very faint.
I went back to the paper shop
to tell them my complaint.

With the pencil in his hand
the shopkeeper scratched his head
and said “you need to change this
for a darker form of lead.”

I asked him most politely
with no hint of aggression
“2B or not 2B, " I said
"that has to be the question"

                                               Bill Shakespeare

I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶  I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
                                                  I­̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶  h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶  y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
                                                   ­        I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶  y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶          I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶       I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶ r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
               I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶  I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
        I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
   I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶  h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶                                    I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
         I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
                                                   ­                             I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
               I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
                                     I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
    I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶  I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶  r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶  l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶  e̶r̶
̶       I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶         ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
                                 I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶     I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶   r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶
̶I̶'̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶r̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶r̶  d̶e̶r̶
          


                                    ­               ᵤntᵢl my
lₑgs bᵣₑₐk

          bₑfₒᵣₑ my ₑyₑs clₒsₑ

                                                      
                                                                ­                      blₑₑdᵢng nₒsₑ

            until
             I break myself
                 for trying my hardest

this isn’t going to make sense
cause it’s not supposed to
and if I’m being honest
this isn’t for you
it’s not even for me

I’m stuck
I’m trapped
I’m lost
I’m every other word that describes people who feel at a dead end

I’m typing on a ****** phone
That’s connected to a ****** connection
That could possibly be a metaphor for my life

I’m writing
Because I don’t know what else to do

I’m writing
Cause that’s what they told me to do

But they also told me that what I think isn’t always true
That I’m special and I just don’t see it

But that’s the thing
I don’t see it

And if I don’t see it then why should it matter if anyone else does

And if I’m thinking something why should it matter if it’s true

What matters is that it’s in my head
What matters is that it’s always there

But here I am
Stuck in the same place
Back to square one
No progress made
The same questions, whether true or not

Will I amount to anything?
Do I really help?
Am I really worthwhile?
Do you actually care?

I see these people
When I’m online
They smile and post
They edit and pose

I can’t help but wonder

Do you really smile, or do you just do it to look happy like me?
Do you really feel happy, or are you trying to lie like me?
Do you understand what I feel?

Or is it just me?

I’m not trying to be selfish
I don’t want a lot
I just want to be happy
And I want others to be happy with me
But neither is happening

So instead there’s a poem
That doesn’t even ryhme
That makes no sense
  I’ll try harder

don't try to be who you were before,
be the after...

How can emptiness be so heavy?