you feel until you can’t anymore and you hurt until your arms are sore
Just as you walk out the door thinking of what’s in store your sadness comes back up from the floor and you are helpless.
The sky is blue and grey and pink and people around you always sing , of money and glamour and bubbly things and you are merely a shell. something so out of place you think you mistakenly fell.
Into this world of hate and gloom where money is king and there’s no magic broom, or a high tower for you as a room and it’s all just about the surface.
You paint a face and fake an embrace and love the need to love instead, you love an idea you’ve grown to dread and it’s not so scary to be dead anymore.
It’s not that you want to be alone
But with time you start to turn into stone
And think that your actions can condone
All the blood you shed and hearts you broke,
& all the painful words you spoke
As you watched them cut and start to soak into everyone you’ve ever loved.
This illness made you have them shoved.
So far away that night and day became one to you with time, trying to scribble it out into a poem that rhymes.
It’s far for perfect and it’s never simple as the corner of your eyes start to crinkle into a fake smile for the world to see.
Because you can never turn into what they want you to be.
And you never got out so much of a plea.
For a helping hand or a saving grace because this illness was a disgrace that you should hold until the grave and that’s why people called you brave.
and you were the farthest thing from it.