I don't wanna write anymore
Don't wanna draw anymore
Don't wanna sing anymore
Don't wanna breathe anymore
When I was little they said I was wonderful at all these things
(Except for one
You can blame my dad who trashed my lungs)
And I
Being the budding flower of future disaster
Shaped myself around these things
I branded myself ART KID
I spent hours drawing the individual scales of fierce crayon dragons
I wanted to write and illustrate my own books
But when you get older you read Fitzgerald
When you get older you visit art museums
I can recognize a Rembrandt painting from across a hall so it's easy enough to recognize trash when I see it
Crumpled paper ***** lay scattered around my bedroom floor, my wastebin is full with wasted dreams and how did they ever let me think I could be worth something?
I guess I had potential
So they weren't really lying
But it hurts
You walk around in massive shoes expecting to grow into them but you just get blisters from the friction
I don't fit into this mold but I built it myself so why not?
It hurts
When you're used to the sun then suddenly night comes and you have to invent the lightbulb
But it was always there before
And now it's just gone
Like moments, like people, like potential
So where do we go from here?

We're all searching for a purpose
That makes this all seem worth it
A life that is fulfilling
Pray that God is willing

Spending time high and low
Taking life to and fro
On pins and needles in our mending
Hoping to sew a happy ending

Some folk find along the way
It's true in what some people say
There is no higher purpose
Than that of serving others

It takes the focus off one's self
And puts it onto someone else
With the filling of several needs
As on both sides blessings intercede

So give to those in need you find
Having received less from their lot in life
You will find that it is worth it
When you find this is your purpose

I am so tired
And it's the kind of tiredness
That no amount of sleep or rest
Can ever cure or ease
World weary is what I am

All my life
For as long as I can remember
I've been fighting for or against
Something
Anything
I only knew the fight

Bodies become battered and broken
And minds become anxious and paranoid
But both of these can be fixed
However
When a soul becomes worn and diminished
Medication does not help

                                            By Phil Roberts

This screenshot of you, I always see:
waving over your shoulder,
smiling at me.
I've got this fear in my mind like,
what will you do when I
run out of things to say?
Will you stay?

Will you stay when I have nothing to say or do,
will you stay awhile,
just until I think of a cheesey joke
to make you smile?

When nights get longer
will holding me asleep get older?
When I forget another happy birthday,
will you stay?

Just tell me what you need and
God, I pray I can
give you everything.
Anything your heart desires.
Just tell me why you look so tired.

This screenshot of you, I always see:
waving over your shoulder,
smiling at...

There's a fear in my mind that
one day you'll wake up and find
what you're looking for in somebody else.

But you're smiling at me...

No matter the tears or
swearing or fears, I know
at the end of the day,
you're walking in through that door
and I know what you'll say,

.......And I love you too.