there is the sad
where poetry is shoved under school
desks and i bleed quietly
onto grid paper between math
tests and lunch breaks
where i lock myself in school bathrooms
and pray that my empty
lungs will last another day
promise myself five hour naps and
isolation in every way
just so a little bit of the empty
drips away

then there is the sad where
sleep is just a ******* dream and
all i can do is try not to scream
as i scribble away nightmares
in the dark, words that will disgust
me when morning comes but
words that save me from
crawling at your feet and
begging you
please will you stay

and then
there is this sad
the quiet, little sad i can barely feel

i can barely *******
feel
anything at all