Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
I spill my heart onto the keys
And to the screen it flows.
My mind's a dark, deflated tire
That rolls across the interweb.
It cracks their screens and breaks their hearts,
Their spirits squished and flattened out.
Teetering on the edge
The grassy plateau of internal peace under my feet
But I'm teetering

The grass beneath my feet
Gives way
To rocky downward slopes
The deep ravine of despair
And I am teetering

Peace on one side
Turmoil the other
Hanging in the balance
Which way will I fall?

The scent of truth
Floods the nostrils of my soul
For hanging in the balance
Between peaceful
And depressed
Is not peaceful at all.
A Kickstart in the morning
Coffee at midday
Latte in the afternoon
An evening soda

Caffeine running in my veins
Dripping from my brow
The scent of it in my nose

It is a being
Symbiotic to my self.
Believe it or not,
I hear it breathing inside,
Compressing my heart
Rhythmically to stay alive.
Without it I'd die.

Dependent but satisfied
Socially awkward

I thought
I learned
To cope
But nope
I fought
To learn
The way
To act
So I
Could gain
Respect.

It turns out
All along
I was wrong
And my life
Is simply

Elaborate forgery of social skills.
The fight was long and drenched in pain,
Your strength was put to test.
You feared the grief would never end,
But now, my dear, come rest.
Trapped in my own skin
Within a hollow shell of ice.
Stay cold to survive.
Alive, I warm and melt.
A bad hand dealt to me -
Supposed inabilities,
Freeze my will to break the exoskeleton.
For if I thaw,
My life becomes a puddle of pathetic liquid.
On sheets of paper, lifeless there they lie.
No more than scribbles to the untrained eye,
Meaningless.
They rest there on that paper, fast asleep.
With joy into the air they want to leap.
Hopefulness.
The silence now is sliced as with a knife,
An instrument has brought them back to life.
Happiness.
Motorcycles rumbling by
As overhead an airplane flies,
Thundering and humming.

Sirens wailing somewhere near.
Mosquitoes whining in your ear.
A grumbling train is coming.
Skies for eyes, the world contained in full,
Yet see into one’s self, the inner soul.
Little children love her kind embrace,
Vivacious, vibrant smiles on their face.
Independent, she decides her way,
An upstream-swimmer owning every day.

Pretty as a yellow rose in bloom,
A pleasant, glowing presence in the room.
Underneath her placid countenance
Lies deepest care for family and her friends.
Intuitive
Not afraid to live
Excelling in the art of being her.

(No one does it better)
Skies, overcast
Gray

Sidewalk below
Gray

All my memories
All my past
Gray

Take my hand
Let me lead you
Away

Let me lead you
Far from here
No more gray for you,
My dear.
Gray is cool
And you are warm.
Gray is still
And you’re a storm.
Once we find
Your verdant home
I’ll go back
Where I belong-

To Gray
To be continued???
If I asked it would be awkward,
What you're thinking,
If I'm boring you,
If you loathe me,
If you're having a bad day,
If it's awkward because you have Feelings for me,
It so awkward.
Why.

I try and I try
To read into your dismissive
****** expressions.
Why are you so disinterested?

You laugh with others,
But never with me.

I'm angry because
I simply do not understand.

I'm angry because
An answer I cannot demand.

I'm angry because
My mind must be broken.

I'm angry because
Your thoughts must be spoken
If I'm to understand.
Nonverbal communication goes over my head, and awareness of that fact is torture.

— The End —