I would say that I'm tired of being tired, but I'm really just tired of you.

Maybe the big picture isn't as pretty when you
look
up
close.
You can see how the colors have bled,
How the paint has chipped,
How the colors have faded.
Then, no one wants to look at the details.
They just want to see the pretty.
The distance-blurred scenery.
The seemingly sharp lines
And the seemingly vivid colors,
But the harsh reality is that nothing is pretty
When you look a little deeper
Or search a little harder
Because only then can you see
How messed up everything really is.

isn't it sad when
there's more equality
in the math on my paper
than there is
in the society of our country?

We tried so hard to escape.
I guess my heart got caught on the barbed wire.
I sat on the fence and watched you leave, watched you leave me behind.
My fingers locked in the chain link, my body paralyzed by the spotlights.
I’ll always be locked up in you.

my lipstick matches
the color of your blood on
my manicured hands.

There are four pill bottles in my cabinet.
1.) Vicodin for the pain, the agony that comes in the night, the suffering.
2.) Prozac for the numbness, the void, the grey space in my brain.
3.) Ativan for the insomnia, the late night tears, the constant thinking.
4.) Xanax for the panic, the racing heartbeats, the walls closing in.
I'm working on a couple more.
There are four pill bottles in my cabinet.
All of them are almost empty.