It is there,
Under the splendid sun unweathered,
The moon lights Kindle and rekindle,
Under the stars stuck in repentance,
Unlike their perpetuality,
It is there,
The urge to redraw myself,
Into the reflection of others perfection,
To be spun in accordance to what lies,
behind those shallow eyes,
My complexity beyond compare,
Not sincere,
Am I the art or the painter?
Because I destroy myself so beautifully,
A symphony sung and unsung all at once,
Broken cords that heal themselves whole.

dead in the night
all alone
dead inside

eyes wide open
glued to the ceiling
gone all mental healing

all the overthinking
praying for redemption
followed by slow blinking
for shame, i'm left with feelings of abnegation.

mental illness is the
most expensive thing
i've ever owned but
never wanted

You left like I wasn’t reason to stay
Not being heartless I’m just using my heart less

All I wanted was your time but that was a crime

Wrapped up in misery you became a mystery
Two peas in a pod estranged from one another
Almost inevitable
All you had to do was stay.