To hell with what they say.
"He knows how to manage it on his own."
Maybe I talk so I hide everything else away.
Is he really better off on his own?
What I speak has no substance anyway.
Haven't you ever felt that?
Accuse me of being lazy.
Go ahead, point your fingers.
I would yell back but,
I have lost all my energy.
I throw my pillows, punch them--
I face the wall, punch it--
I take my finger gun, shoot it--
everything in sight and then--
point it to my head.
**** it back.
Close my eyes.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Click.
It's empty. Aren't we all?
I live to see another day.
Carpe diem.