I poured my heart out
With a pen and paper
Until there was nothing left
An empty shell holding a journal.
I used to be happy.
I used to know what it was like
To feel joy course through my body.
We all did,
At one time.
Then there's the loss
And none of us are ever the same.
Pretenders, I'd call us.
We can fool the lucky few who don't know the darkness.
The oblivious-
They do not know what the world is.
The world is a beautiful, devastating mess
It takes, but it doesn't give
Mounds of dirt viciously colliding and collapsing
To make canyons and mountains.
And yet, some people only see the beauty
Not the destruction
You cannot see the destruction
Without having been destroyed
And to be destroyed,
Is to be lost forever.
*And we just keep on pretending
The people I write to,
Will never read these scratches of my soul,
Never see the tear stained paper.
They call themselves friend,
Yet they won't even try to look past my fake facade.
Because some people don't have time
For people like me.