I'm not sick
I'm just a bit bent
Over the fact that
My self hatred
And quiet quirks
Have landed me
In a societal prison
Under the jurisdiction
Of people
Who cannot look at me
With
An honest face.
And tell me
It will be okay

Today I'll dance among the wet and wild grass
Breath in the sunlight distilled from the clouds
Embrace the wind like an old friend
Maybe then,
I'll be free again.

This is how it goes:
You start to think you're over them
Then you start to over think
You fall back to the pace of
Barely walking, barely breathing
And the circumstances rewind
And play, rewind and play
All the words you said?
Weren't good enough.
All the voices in your head?
You should have listened.
But it's over. Done.
The curtains have closed.
After all,
You're over it.

I'm sitting staring at my phone,
looking at unanswered texts.
Wondering if I'm the terrible one
For letting it go.
Or if they are
For assuming I want to hear it.

A thousand different faces with the same hollow smile
Etched onto skin so thin it might just tear.
A quivering voice to match shaking hands
That hold on just a little too tight
With the willingness to let go.