The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

We don’t see the carrots to be cut,
We see the sharp knife that could cut us.

We don’t see the bridge,
We see the other side of the railings.

We don’t see painkillers,
We see medication we could drown ourselves in.

We don’t see the train,
We see the tracks we could lay on.

We don’t see the nice view,
We see the cliff's edge we could jump off.

Dear death,

I have met life,
He wants me to fight,
But I'm so weak-
So can we meet?

I told myself I’d never fall in love again because it’s too **** painful
and I’m tired of explaining my soul to everyone because no one understands
and I wish to be loved
but I also wish that I were dead
and I’m sorry if this is too much to process and I’m sorry if I get caught up in all the nonesense
but unfortunately I’m human
and it’s all I can do

to survive.

I’m not enough and I’m sorry.
I’m broken and I’m sorry.
I’m sad and I’m sorry.

Maybe if I were different
maybe if I hadn’t done the drugs
maybe if I thought twice
before I first fell in love.
Maybe if she didn’t touch me
or maybe if he didn’t hurt me
then I wouldn’t be here.
But that’s not the case and I’m sorry.

I’m not enough and I’m sorry.
I’m still too much and I’m sorry.

Sometimes he let his eyes rest on hers, it needn't have been painful,
but it strangely was.
He broke a lifetime of avoiding eye contact to show her.
She was worth overcoming obstacles for.