You wake up in a dark room on the second floor of your grandma's house
like little nightmare's you imagine yourself on a ship floating on the ocean marked nowhere
//cut scene//
you've written 2 of these poems, now there's a third?
//end cut scene//
you pull up your phone because it's a room in a room
your heart doesnt feel like getting up soon
the bright screen hurts your eyes, the time displays welll past noon
//cut scene//
are you writing this just for the book? or do you actually want to write this
// end cut scene //
you pull up instagram
where half your feed is soft core ****
like Smino sings, bam bam bam
you know you're quite love lorn
and the emotions these ****** energy stirs,
you're only attracted to all this because it's love fast served
it's love where people are most willing to take and give,
sure there is work involved in the play
but there's always some form of satisfaction at the end of the day
doesnt matter if the person means nothing
in that moment the hugs and kisses mean everything
in that moment, the reality is the visualization of a want built till and for the end of your own dramatification
in that moment, you're two people who are willing to care and work for each other and there's the open interpretation of that situation
there's no need for verbal communication
jus translated sounds of pure emotion
food for the soul
is there a need for advocation
//cut scene//
who's even gonna buy the book? who the **** are you that people would want your book?
// end cut scene //
you roll on you're side
bright screen in your hand
you're closer to the edge of the bed now
just one more step
get up childddd
get up
do your work
why is that so hard
just get up


and after a few more rounds of that, you do
you go to the bathroom
admire yourself and feel the urge to poo
TMIIIIII I know but who caressss
you dont do it anyway, you just stare at your stare
few minutes past, and the thoughts and ideas your brain has been churning gets to you
you feel the charge to create and do so you move your *** out of the bathroom
slowly, but you do

you check your phone again, nothing
you hoped there would be anything to make you feel something
your brain registers the memory of you in the mirror
you looked good today there's that at least
but this self love just feels like you're yourself, pulling yourself on a leash

//cut scene//
*******. this poem is getting long. no one likes long poems stop writing go do your work *******. go **** why you sitting here writing useless things. noooo one's gonna buy this book. you're doing nothing in the end
// end cut scene //

They say the most important thing is self love
as long as you love yourself there's nothing truly bad in the world
that can stop you and hurt you because you have yourself
put yourself on a pedestal because there's nobody else
who'd do that for you, who'll love you like you
and that's ******* true but
when you're the only one who loves yourself
and you find it hard to trust anyone's truer intentions
when you feel like only you see your worth
is your worth valid to only your own opinion
if only you love yourself
there must be something wrong with you
if not why wont others care
or at least bare with you

//cut scene//
ok that was harsh. should it even be in the book. it might scare people. but you want this to be raw right so I suppose it's worth being this vulnerable.
// end cut scene //

anyway you're downstairs now, typing this
you genuinely do want to ****
but you dont want to deal with it
you want to go out and walk around
take in the sounds
of humans vs humans vs nature
pound pounding into your heartbeat and maybe you wont feel so down
you're craving nicotine
and maybe a shot of gasoline
straight to your heart
it's 5.30pm you havent eaten
as usual, why you so weak, you keep letting yourself fall apart
it's 5.30 pm
you have assignments for all of your classes to work on
but you're so stuck in this reality
where you gonna find the strength to carry on
but you put yourself in this reality what's to say you wont leave yourself here till dawn
do you want to move or do you want to ponder
about the many things that are wrong

let's end this like the other two
just to keep up this tying element of poeticity that they don't teach in school
eternal impressions
in your heart,
these scars that mark your depression.

There's something to the thoughts in my head that build a wall
right in front of
me, it screams

love love love love love
love love love love love
love love love love love
love love love love love

and seems to pulse with all that time has said

my hands reach out to touch it but I'm already on the other side

through apparition or self contradiction?

what did I feel at that time.

I turn to look back but all I see is darkness

there is a lightswitch in my eyes but a voice in my head says it's not yet the right moment

I turn back to look in front and there's more darkness ahead

there's a lightswitch in my eyes but my heart says

" let's rest instead "

so I sit down and look around,
there's wind but I feel nothing.
All there is that's burned into my mind is the wall that could've made me feel something
where I shut off the recorder in my brain and refused to let myself feel
maybe because if I had, I'd be sitting here with pain bleeding from my brain
I make out to be strong, but I know I'm the weakest, that's why the fight never stops and I'm always left lying in stills
A light comes on and I look back at the wall and it's not there.
What is reality and what is fantasy when both ceases to exist when I'm the most in despair

Where the emotions are the realest and it's hard to even take in some air
Where the world is the brightest with flashing colors of reality mixing with messed hair
everything is broken and needs to be repaired
but I turn my head to what's in front of me
light switch still turned on
It's still dark, there's not much of anything.
it's time to get up on that stage and sing

Big eyes and crooked smile
she seems like the kind of girl oh so worthwhile
like she never lost the purity of a child.

In society it's like a prize,
to find humanity confined to it's purest lies.
No one is left innocent, everyone gets chastised
For the ******, they float inside of us
and not beyond our eyes.

we are all broken, torn apart,
put together by our hearts
and once all hope is lost we abandon our tarts,
leave the mad tea party
with a broken heart

yet, we observe, when belief and ego takes over
adults become drunk children hard to get sober
cigarettes and alcohol and drugs to play and play
abusing human bodies, individual, connected or slain

So
Big eyes and crooked smile,
quick breathes, blue blacked knuckles on cursed tiles
pain making her eyes bleed and her lungs fill with bile
heart torn, dreams worn
beat down on the ground trying to make no sound
waiting for a hug, a kiss, a missed look to make her swoon
like she stopped feeling loved once she got an open wound.

There are pins on my pillow and I can't sleep,
Some are painted the bright colors you only see in dreams,
Some are lines, shapes, hues you see displayed on a modern art's canvas' seams.
Some emit words sewn together into a stream.

There are pins on my pillow and I can't sleep,
they sprout like water droplets hitting a window pane,
ugh my mind, my eyes are in pain.
I think I'm going insane.

There are pins on my pillow and I can't sleep,
They say to count the sheep,
but what if I am a sheep,
bleep bleep bleep,
I should paint sheep,
are there songs about sheep?
Maybe I should write one.
Ooh, and a story too,
find a way to make it a best seller,
maybe throw in some ****** Doo.

There are pins on my pillow and I can't sleep,
to pry them out is to let them sprout,
the sunlight shines through my window,
a yawn escapes my mouth.
I stare at the pins and I can't help but fall in love,
they are the babies from my pink squishy cove,
They make me want to weep
for my body
my mind is tired,
SOS someone give some drugs to fall asleep and rule my dream landscape empire,
I wanna fall into the darkness, sleep till noon.

Please do not wake me, or the gears will start spinning soon.

Stress is a friend
you can never break ends,
with.

Stress is the kind to sneak as close to your face as
possible
and
scream
" YER STRESSED 'CAUSE YOU HAVE LOTS'A WORK
BUT YOU HAVE NADA MOTIVATION TO DO IT,
YOU HAVE NADA MOTIVATION TO DO IT 'CAUSE
YER STRESSED, ACE ."
and hits you in the face.

Leaving you panda eyes
of black and blue,
your work load piles up
with the never ending post-its of every hue.

You spend a whole day locked up,
though you're free.
Finally facing your work load
5 due tomorrow and 10 due May oh' 3.

You spend your whole day locked up,
not physically but mentally,
your thoughts running around your head,
shaking the bars over and over again,
shaking the stability of your mentality.

These thoughts don't necessarily
connect,
no they reflect over every memory,
again and again and again,
with every word you type it's the same beat, same tune, same words
again and again and again.

These thought don't even necessarily are long,
they could be a word,
a three word pun,
or 2 centimetres of wrong.

Stress is the ***** you seem to understand,
but when you try to describe her the words never end.

It's not noticeable,
depression.

Yet it leaves
eternal impressions

You ask yourself whether
you're
doing what you do for yourself
and the answer's clear
whispering in your ear.
NO

These ABCs marked on a paper release,
marking your future,
your parent's judgement and
the level of your intelligence.

But what if you're intelligent in other things?
You don't memorize formulas
but you break the barriers
of creative.

Think outside the box when
so far in your life,
they teach you rules.

You have to do this,
do that.
No,
you can't live your life that way and

BAM!

You do something wrong,
and so you get hit by the throng of pain,
in the arms
in the face
in the waist.
Because you don't live up to be that someone else's ace.

Pinches, slaps, verbal abuse,
how much can one take before they lose.
Or maybe you have lost,
You know that and you just lie down wanting
to fall into the ground.

To lose yourself and escape into
computer games,
sports,
laughs
smiles while looking past and forcing yourself to forget
that trauma.

Eternal impressions
in your heart,
these scars that
mark your depression