I come off as strong,
But maybe i fall asleep crying.

I act like nothing is wrong,
But maybe i'm just really good at lying.

If I let myself think
I feel myself begin to sink
For one second
I feel my demons beckon
“Come on down,” They’ll say
“We can play all day
It’s fun down here
And there is no fear.”
If I let them into my mind
The world is left behind
And shrouded over
As the demons take over
If I let myself think
I might just sink
And let the demons come in;
Let them wear me thin
Maybe I’ll kick them out
But then I’m in doubt
Of whether it’s worth it
To fight and leave myself split
Between the good and the bad
Between the happy and the sad
So they might just stay
Until I decide to push them away
And if I let myself think
Further into my demons I’ll sink

Liquid courage to numb the pain.
Intoxicated to forget.
Offbeat blood, sent from heart to vein.
Returns with a guest, she just met.


She closes up, leaves the bar clean.
To her apartment, around three.
In bed she lays, counting some sheep,
That mock her, thinking she will sleep.
She hears the crickets’ lonely beat.
Reminding her of creeps she meets.
Sometimes they have a potential start.
But never truly go that far.


Each night dealt with some other cards.
But slowly starts to build up guard.
She puts less time in her makeup.
But drunks continue to pick up.
She joins in shots, hopes to pass out.
But in her head she hears the shouts.
Her heart’s hunger for real love.
Her clouded thoughts rise above.


A newly turned insomniac.
No longer sleeping on her back.
Till curtains peek with starry eyes.
So bright, leaves a forceful rise.
Her sobs like strings of violin.
A void no liquor can fill in.
Despite how much she tries to drown.
The aches resonate with shrill sounds.


Another night, still found no one.
A man enters, two drinks and done.
She questions him, “What is the rush?”
Always pulled into a quick crush.
But never really tends to last.
As he mumbles about his past.
A bartender, like therapist.
As alcohol reveals the gist.


Now drunk and loud, he starts to shout.
Before his crash, he raises doubt.
He talks about, the best he lost.
Always at home, waits for the toss.
She cheers him up, when in a rut.
He gets up again, “That **** mutt!
To see her hurt, curled up in bed.
I held her paw, up till her death.”


The next night, slept pretty early.
He was perfect, brown hair curly.
Her eyes were lost, but not with lust.
Enjoyed his smells, delicious must.
A piece of her, became a part.
Happy to save his sinking heart.
Rescued him, he slept on her rug.
Named Milo, her three-legged dog.

All I had to say was
“there’s this boy”
and they all thought my big heart
was in trouble.