No more poems, thank you;
I think that I'm done.
My notebook's half empty,
And apathy's won.

Please turn off the music;
My songs are all sung.
I think the night's over,
Although it's still young.

No more words, I beg you;
Just slice off my tongue!
They're just wasted air,
From a withering lung.

I've no more left to say;
Time to blot out the sun.
My notebook's half empty,
And apathy's won.

I want to be chosen.
Finally.
It’s only been a month,
a couple dates.
I feel safe with
You.
I want to be chosen this time.
I want to be someone’s
Something.
I want to be chosen.
By him.
I’ll choose you too.
I hope I’m chosen,
by you.

Maybe I don’t have a purpose.
Nothing bad has happened to me.
I’ve worked hard for everything I have now.
Maybe that’s to fix the dreams of the little girl,
Who had everything taken away from her.
Her room, her possessions, her ability to trust.
Nothing but broken promises.
Filling up her bubble of hope too many times.
If I had purpose, would I be able to expect my expectations?
I see nothing but disappointment in every human.
Is this real?
If I had purpose,
Maybe I would be fulfilled.
Maybe if I had purpose,
I would be well loved.
If I have purpose,
Maybe I would enjoy the world.
If I had purpose,
I would have company.
If I had purpose.

i howled at the moon from a rooftop
with a cigarette and no shirt
the neighbors called me mad
but i was just
finally hearing god.

I was just never fully taken into consideration.
I was just used-or so I felt.
I was just a middle ground.
A rebound before he got serious again.
I don’t matter.
I didn’t matter.
I—
I thought he was the greatest.
He’s just an *******.
I guess.