I may not know what words to speak
When meeting new people, I'm a little weak
But I'll still watch closely and listen well
To capture the story they're all dying to tell

a crack in her voice
a tremble in her words
a shiver from her body
a tremor from her words
her anger gave her palpitations
her anger brought tears to her eyes
she clenched her jaw
and ****** her fingers

the wall next to her
no longer seems like a wall
it was a punching bag
the blood trickles down her fist
but she doesn't feel the pain
not more than the anger
red hot burning anger

There is no part inside me
that fears being alone.
Where most people find panic
in the emptiness that covers
the left side of their bed,
I find comfort.

I'm more than capable
of holding my own hand
and feeling assured
in my lack of dependency on others.

I am good at being alone,
and I think I'm choosing to
remind myself of this right now,
because I am starting to remember
what it's like to have feelings
for someone,
and all I can think about
is how much it hurt last time.

I'm not okay... But it's okay

Because when I put that blunt to my lips I'm okay

And when I put that blade to my wrist I'm okay

Poetry is perfected in pain,
Music through the madness of life.
So let your worries fall like rain
With a melody like a knife.
Take your sorrows and your fears
Play them out like a song
Drown them with your tears;
Until the whole world sings along.

For poetry is unlike the sorrow;
Music, much unlike the pain.
Each describe the madness of the morrow
Where melodies and tired eyes are sleepily lain
And eloquent dreams of memories borrow
The magical, maddening rhythm of the rain.

12/9/15