Tough
A poem.
—————

I can’t deal with anyone’s crap.
I got to much blood and boulders,
On my back.

Fighting back the past,
Never been able to relax.

I don’t know if anyone can tell,
—Or if anyone cares,
But I'm about to crack.

they creep up,
Bruises cover much.

Random hallucinations—
Severe pain.

No one's understanding,
—or listening.

My brain is in such a bad headache,
I feel like my insides are blistering.

Fidgeting.
Numbness.
Pain.
Fainting.

Brain making—
Random movements.
All a loss of control.

Appointments got canceled,
“WHY!!!— HOW MANY MORE!?”

When does someone call it-
“Enough!?”
  
I’m NOT….THIS tough.

You always look so happy though!

That’s fake
That’s fake
It’s fake
It’s fake
Fake
Fake

i wish to be as
beautiful as the
moon

it's light a beacon
a pale silhouette
magical

i wish to be as
beautiful as the
moon

for the moon cares not
for admirers or
fame

it glimmers eternally
in the dark
midnight

Up to the trees I go,
Further north where fresh water flows.
Travel preparations with my heart aching,
Home is where I’m free,
Left alone just to be.
Not in this gloomy place,
Not within this heat wave.
Like a pioneer,
I pack my bags,
Leaving behind the places I know,
In search of the places,
Where I’ll grow.

Sometimes i sit next the the edge,
an old radio next to me.
As i lie down on my sledge,
the radio sings to me.

Sings me songs of love,
like a chirping little dove.
Or cries a tale of sorrow,
my eyes trailing a river till the morrow.

But then...
skies of grey rolled in.
Thunder booms across the sky.
haze and fog clouds my gaze.

And the radio?
all i can hear from it is static.

ME:
Hello?
Hello? Can you still play?
Can you still give me the words that flow easily out of your head?
Can you still reach me?
Hello???