When I try to be social
I miserably fail
I act like a butterfly
But all to no avail
So then I decided
To just hate them instead
Cause people don't give a ****
Unless you're pretty or dead
Now this pretty butterfly
Was really just a worm
Who learned the hard way
Of picking rose with its torn
Now she's digging into the Earth
Getting ready for her slumber
And if one day she succeed
She might just sleep forever


© Leigh Herondale  *September 2015

The problem with
hats
is that when
you wear them
for awhile
your head is
hot,
but held
and
you almost
forget they're there

The problem with
hats is
that when they sit
there for
awhile
and when you
resign to the
weight
on your head-
you take them off
and you can
still feel
them there
for awhile

That's the problem with
hats
and the problem with
you,
here,
with me
now.

Lonely Apps
Socialization deleted
laughs, screams, talks

Now; texts, emails, tweets
eyes now dim
Puns of fun trapped behind lips

Plugged in
no uploads
to pull reality in

Where will I go
I just don't know
I'm in a pretty dark place
In my own mental space
It's strange to me
Most definitely
How can I explain
This invisible pain
Self doubt is a crippling
Burden that has rippling
Effects on the mind
I've tried to leave it behind
And refocus on the daily grind
I don't have a job
I keep getting cracked like a ****
I feel like a decadent slob
But I must go on
A brighter day will come it won't be long.
So where will I go
I just don't know
I might end up anywhere,
Maybe Mexico
But when I find
My peace of mind
I'll keep it for the end of time.

"Are you Okay?"
I'm not even sad.
"So what are you?"
God, I make myself mad.

Yeah, that's what I am,
I'm angry, *"At what?"
Shut up! If I knew…
"Lots would change. Not."

Maybe that's what I need.
"A change, that'll work."
Exactly, and if I'm lucky,
It'll wipe off your smirk.

"I'm not laughing."
Not at me, with me, correct?
"Well not exactly."
You understand that you're in my head?

That's it. It's all in my head.
"Except the scars on each inch of your skin."
That's different, I had to feel…
"Feel what? To what end?"

Feel SOMETHING! Anything…
"Anything at all?"
Yes. "And what if you don't?"
Upon the floor I will crawl.

Crawl into a hole.
"A hole in the ground?"
And have it filled up with dirt,
Never to be found.

"You're giving up."
I'm living all wrong.
"You're pathetic."
**So they've been right all along.