I still feel the same
I am lonely
I feel empty
Im thinking about all my flaws,
About everything I didn't do
Maybe that's why I don't deserve to be happy, I don't deserve to be loved,
I don't deserve to have someone exerting an effort for,
Maybe I am just a waste of space,
I've been putting the blame on everyone else around me
Maybe I never accepted that I am the problem
I am the toxic one
I am the anchor that is dragging everyone down with me
I am the one who has to go away
I am the
My exact feelings right now. It just has to go somewhere. Sorry for wasting your time.
i've run out of poetry,
and now all i'm left with
i'm lost in a world
that's lost in itself.
i can't find the words
to even say what i'm feeling,
because all i see is confusion
staring right back at me.
i'm in a room full of mirrors,
my own reflection
because i've lost myself
in the depths of my thoughts.
please find me,
i'm gasping for air
that's not even there.
no one understands,
yet you're all here to listen.
there's only one problem.
i can't find the words-
i've run out of poetry.
my solution to having writer's block but also desperately needing to write at the same time
Waking up to a heavy chest
My body begging me to sleep again
And my anxiety begins the second I realize I'm alive
I'm trying to learn to function
With all of this negative energy inside me
I know it'll pass and
I know it'll get better
But right now it hurts
I feel unloved
I feel lost inside myself
A place I can't stay too long
Before I lose my mind
I can tell myself I'm worth it and
That my worth isn't defined by others
And it works for a bit
Until something else comes up and
My heart loses its energy
And I either feel like giving up
Or ready to fight everyone
Your naked body
Pressed on mine
I thought that
I should feel
And I'm very sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me. You are everything I have ever wanted, but for some reason touching you leaves me blank. I feel nothing. And I am sorry.
Freud says tattoos
And half a million perforations
Of the past
you will never be forgotten.
your name twisted into metaphors and colors and distractions will forever
be painted across pages and pages of her favorite brand of notebook,
no matter how many she burns
there will always be one she forgot,
and she will only find it once she had almost forgotten you.
she will find the one Papyrus notebook
and all of your metaphors and colors and disractions will come flooding back,
just like how the ocean in your eyes
flooded her heart all those years ago.