this isn’t going to make sense
cause it’s not supposed to
and if I’m being honest
this isn’t for you
it’s not even for me

I’m stuck
I’m trapped
I’m lost
I’m every other word that describes people who feel at a dead end

I’m typing on a ****** phone
That’s connected to a ****** connection
That could possibly be a metaphor for my life

I’m writing
Because I don’t know what else to do

I’m writing
Cause that’s what they told me to do

But they also told me that what I think isn’t always true
That I’m special and I just don’t see it

But that’s the thing
I don’t see it

And if I don’t see it then why should it matter if anyone else does

And if I’m thinking something why should it matter if it’s true

What matters is that it’s in my head
What matters is that it’s always there

But here I am
Stuck in the same place
Back to square one
No progress made
The same questions, whether true or not

Will I amount to anything?
Do I really help?
Am I really worthwhile?
Do you actually care?

I see these people
When I’m online
They smile and post
They edit and pose

I can’t help but wonder

Do you really smile, or do you just do it to look happy like me?
Do you really feel happy, or are you trying to lie like me?
Do you understand what I feel?

Or is it just me?

I’m not trying to be selfish
I don’t want a lot
I just want to be happy
And I want others to be happy with me
But neither is happening

So instead there’s a poem
That doesn’t even ryhme
That makes no sense
  I’ll try harder

sometimes
i refuse to
write poetry
because inspiration
only comes from
sad
times

this realization
makes me
even
sadder

İçimde yarın seni göremeyecek olmanın üzüntüsü var
Buğulu, her an ağlamaklı gözlerini görememenin
Sanki çocukken kırmışlar da seni öyle mahzun bakıyormuşsun gibi Dalgalı deniz saçlarını kalbime dolayamamanın
Elini her saçına götürdüğünde yalnızlığın kıyıya vuruyor gibi
Kırgın, buz ellerinle hayata tutunamamanın
Her sımsıkı sarıldığın eller seni bırakmış gibi
Yere kapanmış kimsesiz ağlayan çocuk sesini duyamamanın
Birini kaybetmişsin de onun sessizliği gibi
İçimde bugünün son gecemiz olmasının dayanılmazlığı var
Geri dönmeyecekmişsin gibi

İçimde yarın seni göremeyecek olmanın üzüntüsü var
En çok da seni bunları başkasına derken duymanın çaresizliği var

Red like the dress you wore when I first met you.
You were beautiful.
And you still are.

Roses are red.
Red like the lipstick which stained my cheek the first time you kissed me.
And all other times you did.

Roses are red.
Red like the sky
when you said goodbye.
Or like the dry eyes
I had every time I cried.

Roses are red.
Red as the blood that stained the silver bullet which pierced through your skin.
Roses are red.
Red like the heart that shattered into a million, countless fractals for you.

Roses are red.

As you lie in your hospital bed, dead, never coming back.
You won't come back.
You can't come back.

Roses are red like the one I'm holding, tightly
I don't care if I get hurt.
I don't care if the sharp thorns pierce through my fragile skin the way the bullet shattered all what could've and what would've been's.
All I want is for you to come back.
I want you to come back.
I need you to come back.
Please come back.
Please.

Roses are red.
And will always be red.
Always for you.