the real virus is ignorance
and you choose not to wear your mask
infecting those around you with selfishness and cocky insecurities
the rising stench of death
is the aroma of entitlement
and lack of respect for humanity
that you parade around like a tattoo
the weak signing their own death sentences
being forced to prepare goodbyes
without the chance
to have a say
you aren't god karen
i am just done with it all if you can't tell
its no longer a trend
i see us scrapping for words and bleeding our feelings onto paper
while the rest of them hide and dismiss the thought of expressing emotions
what is a poem, if it is no longer read?
what are we, if we are the only ones listening?
is it cooler to pretend and make fun of your passion like the new
generations are doing?
i don't know where i am going with this
there is a strange feeling around it lately, do you notice it too?
i never really fought the labels and stereotypes i was given growing up. never denied rumors or shown myself to the people around me who i really was. and those rumors were actually awful thinking on it now. some people really grew up having those thoughts about me and have gone on for years thinking i was this person they heard about. isn't that strange to think about? someone out there knew you casually for years in school or work or in the neighborhood and you will never fully know how they saw you. its taken me almost 4 years to realize i didn't have to be afraid. nobody would ever stand up for me the way that i could've stood up for myself. although i know now i will forever stand alone for being different around these parts-at least i am left standing being who i really am.
i suppose the positive notes on my darker sides--or late night thoughts having anxiety about the future and past? i don't know you tell me.
song i have on repeat lately: Wild Horses by The Sundays
i did make the choice, to not go down that road.
do you know how it feels to constantly procrastinate your feelings?
i put them in the back seat and kept driving.
ignoring the warnings lighting up in the corners of my eyes as i pass them.
am i waiting for something?
i know i am.
i don't think anyone is waiting for me.
but then again it is my fault
i am always late.
i turn 21 this year.
will i have my first drink before my first kiss?
but i'm not sure
how i come across
i latch onto my thoughts and feelings
but my words are still
at a loss
if the world does spin
the time is ours
and the night has just begun
but if the sky does die
and our light is lost
i will still be biting my tongue
speaking my feelings, is the bitter truth that lies inside my grin
but keeping quiet burns my soul, and waters me down in sin
i write it all here
for myself to read
so i can try to leave it behind
but without a doubt
they roam these grounds
and haunt me
after i've moved on
rain is on the ground
you were in my reach
i should've turned and told you
instead i fell into the-
-oh i fell into the
and then you left
question: why do we pull away and never really say our real feelings?