every goodbye
is followed by a hello
and every storm
has a ******* rainbow
im stupid
and im young
and i dont understand things like love
and im glad
that some six months ago
i survived myself
because yeah
life is worth living
more often than
it isnt

my poetry is not art anymore
it isn't expression
it isn't even honest
it's filtered and edited
so as not to be disturbing
or concerning
to any number of people
often all that is left of me then
is anger

but in truth
in a final attempt
at honesty in my art
I am lonely.
and confused and stupid and tired and heartbroken and homesick
and so many other human things

to be disgustingly honest
and simple minded
in the least amount of words
I love you

i was
just another chapter
another character
i was
never special
or different
from any of the others
and somehow
i manage
to still make it
about me