verse

Distant memories feel like dreams
Thoughts of back then put me to sleep
My old friends, the stars who look down
Have even forgotten I still exist now
Can I forget i still exist now?
Can we just go on existing now?

Pre Chorus

I don’t care who sees or stares at me
I just want someone who’s there for me
Someone who will stop and stare
Not look away and doesn’t care

Chorus

This stupid town can go **** itself now
These ******* people can go away now
I just want to watch the stars
And greet them as old friends
On the hood my mom’s car
But i’ve seen how it ends

Copy and paste
It doesn’t matter
As long as we get it done
Just ******* our way through
Trying to get it done
Writing answers on our wrist
Stained from all of the ink
Because it doesn’t matter
Nothing does
They say get enough sleep
But make us wake up early
They say to put our phones away
But track our every move
They tell us to put our ourselves first
But as long as we make good grades
Because the only reflection of you is your GPA
And when we cry
When we break down
When we show up with bags under our eyes
They yell
They scream
They’re disappointed
Because they set up expectations
And you know you can never meet them
But you try anyway
And everyone is shocked
When you just can’t
Because you’re tired
You’re hurt
Your wrists are stained with ink
You’re trying to get it done
But it doesn’t matter anymore
It just doesn’t matter

A regular Sunday afternoon
My only company, the sound of the dryer
Finishing my pb&j because
I don’t want to do my homework
Trying to occupy myself
Just long enough to not analyse poetry for class
And this is what I do every Sunday
But I’m not going to remember it
I won’t be feeling like this on Monday
When I’m back at school and my work is due
This feeling of a quiet Sunday is short lived
For it only lives on Sundays
No feelings ever last
Like the feelings I felt a year ago
I don’t know what it feels like
To drive on silverbell and almost be home
To eat lunch outside by the track
To say “booksack” and not have to laugh it off when I get questioned
For everyone to know my real name
To not be annoyed at my parents every time they speak
To have dark hardwood floors
To have lots of friends
I can’t think of anything else
I forgot
But I have to go finish my homework now

my ice cream is melting
but i just started eating
i love ice cream so much
even though my rooms freezing
i'm eating it up with the smallest of spoons
because i feel guilty alone in my room
but i wouldn't be eating ice cream if i really felt bad
maybe i'm eating it because i feel sad
i really don't know what i'm feeling anymore
it's all become blurry don't know why or what for
i'm always so tired i want only sleep
but i have to get up and do some stuff
i finished my ice cream so whatever
i don't care how this poem ends

Poetry is cool,
don't get me wrong.
But is poetry better
than something like a song?
Listening to other music
is a great way to pass the time.
So why would i write poetry
and have to figure out rhymes?
My poems don't even sound like me.
Is this really who i am?
How would i know
when i'm as adventurous as a clam.
wOw that rhyme was bad.
Really is was sad.
Now it's making me mad.
Why can't i just go back to the days
where i was always so glad.
Or at least to the days
when i was so sad and depressed that i could actually express it through decent poetry instead of this uninspired garbage.