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I can't
I can't
I can't
I can't do this
Its too much
Its too
much.
It's
too
much.

I can't think -
I'm forced to think, to think think think about it
All at once
Not at all
I can't -
I don't know
Do you?
Do you know what this is
supposed to be?
Is?
What is -
the meaning
of
everything
nothing
me?

I'm just so
everything
all at once
My mind is broken up into its smallest fragments
scrambling to get it all done,
all in this frantic insane mess, and yet
its so unclear to you
how unable I am.

I'm sorry
I'm sorry
I'm sorry I'msorryI'msorry -
I'msorryIcouldn'tbeeverythingyouwantedmetobe,
I'msorrythatIdidn'­ttryhardenough
I'msorrythatIforgothowtodream
I'msorrythatI'mjusta­kid
I'msorry
I'm sorry.
I'm
Sorry.

I just can't.
How do you expect a child to do so much?

They're tired, can't you see?
Tired from doing so much,
And that "much" being nothing worthwhile
Doesn't make it any less tiring.

They're tired,
Lift them up into your arms
Where it is safe and warm,
For the weight of their own body is too heavy to bear.

They're so tired,
So lay them in bed and tuck them under a blanket
Of a thousand promises to always be there for them, never let them hurt, to always love them.

They're tired,
Just read them a bedtime story about silly little talking animals
That sometimes have troubles,
But always work it out in the end.

They're tired,
Let them have their little interminable nap,

Because they're tired.
And they deserve to rest.
Tired tired tired tired
I'm so tired of being tired.
Just let me go to sleep, please.
I've been working
working
working
My whole ******* life,
And for what?
For some stupid praise?
A degree - the same as everyone else that didn't **** themselves over this and instead lived out their lives?

Don't you know,
I don't envision myself as anything in the future.
I get a little sad when I hear people talk about theirs, because I see that they're practically already there.
In their mind, their heart.
They've got that something, keeping me going.

What do I have?
Nothing.
I am nothing.
I don't dream,
Because I don't sleep.
And because I don't sleep,
I am tired.

I am tired.
I am so ******* tired.
And I'm too old to get tucked in by my mom with a bedtime story,
So here I am, writing bedtime poetry and biology notes.

(It all really doesn't matter in the end.)
Doing this in the middle of studying for a biology digestion test. Did you know that we can eat horizontally or upside down because of peristalsis, where muscle contractions in the esophagus contract and relax to get food boluses down?
Yeah, I don't give a **** either.
Unfinished poems
Wandering bits in my mind
Waiting to be
Are you waiting to be?
The moon is too beautiful
To do something so horrific
Under its gaze.
Written under the gaze of the waxing gibbus.
The emptiness aches,

Only interupted with the waves of pure hurt.

You say I'm being dramatic.

But you don't know these aches of hopelessness.

The loaded weight keeping me from progressing.

The loneliness that is most prevalent when surrounded.

You don't know what is

to drown within yourself

submerged in hurt

that stings eyes when looking for hope

and makes those close sound so far away

and sinks you further and further

into its bottomless pit.
idek, I'm tired
I am scarred.
Can you see?

I am weeping.
Can you hear?

I am hurting
Can you feel it?

I am sorry
Can you forgive me?

I am not
okay
Can you tell?

I am
                   dying
Can you help me?

I am asking nicely
Please?
?
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