I have an obsession with depression When the sun makes summer days everlasting and I'm left grasping at melancholy ideas my mind slips back into it's natural state self-hate will forever govern my fate and I'm tired of living like it's all okay and that I'm supposed to live a certain way I'm over the monotony and hopeless love that can't be found because constantly flirting and never getting anywhere is doing nothing but hurting my already shattered heart while the dreams that I once had that people convinced me were bad have all been beaten down to more realistic goals based off of what I've always been told. When I stop doing what is expected of me that's when I can finally see my true self gasping for air in the pit of my stomach where I pushed it so long ago;
I write, edit, then post. Delete, edit, then post. My fingerprints are toast. Spectral as a ghost. I used to leave them On things of ease, But now they're stuck, On lettered keys.
Mammy knew the five second rule Long ago: "Don't worry. You'll Eat a ton of dirt before you die." Now I wonder on dirt's composite: I swear I'll die talking *******.