A flush creeps to my cheeks, it's been weeks and weeks now. I'm tired of these vicious conceits, continuous defeat as we struggle over who gets to inevitably keep their sanity... her apparently as she slashes my name again and again, once twice thrice called her a friend now. It's all over, supposedly no animosity any more, can't call her a two faced evil... person, thats not civil or nice, it's not me am I right? What's this stinging feeling in my eyes, I can't, I don't know just make this emptiness stop, a pit forming in my stomach and as I rise to the top I could just drop my self into it, all the jokes, all the smiles, all the confidence I never had anyway disappears before it was here even for a day. Big girls don't cry, but then again the songs lie, I sit here surrounded by people who judge the sound of my tears hitting plastic, they think it's fantastic to see a guy like me brought to there level. Big guy, just means another foot to fly as I fall from the sky, after being dropped from so high. Get it together Jack you're not having a panic attack. You're not anxious. You're not depressed. Even if you were no one would be impressed by your pain. Just pick yourself up, roll a ***, pack your bag and run home. And start it all over again.
A free-form stream of consciousness poem I wrote whilst crying on a train after a mess of a break up.