I honestly feel more stuck than ever
before
and poetry doesn't seem to do it
anymore
I haven't written lately, there's a couple reasons
why
I only seem genuinely happy when smoking or
high
this is because cutting no longer
relieves me
no matter how far I run someone always
retrieves me
Though I try I can never catch
up
this seems like the 100th time I've said that I've had
enough
I've always loved my parents, I doubt they'll always love me
back
Now I finally figured out what they want that I
lack
I'm sorry I can't find the person you want me to
be
I'm sorry I never learned to accept what's inside of
me