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I said I was okay
and you believed me???
Let me tell you what is wrong with me
I'm tired
That's all...
I'm tired of getting hurt
I'm tired of getting let down
I'm tired of lies
I'm tired of caring too little, and not caring at all
I'm tired of not eating
I'm tired of holding it in
I'm tired of feeling, broken, damaged, selfless, worthless, never-good-enough pain
I'm tired of being judged for everything I do
I'm tired of all my flaws, and insecurities
I'm tired of trying
I'm tired of getting my hopes up
I'm tired of feeling like ****
I'm tired of being me
--Brooklyn Fountain

Paralyzed -- NF

And I'm Paralyzed
where are my feelings
I no longer feel things
where is the real me?

We know that sky,
we have slept there
below its spread
side to side,
head to head.

We know that terrain
we have sat there
meditating on white clouds
passing as shrouds
in that washed blue,
just silent me
and whispering you.

We know that sea;
We have bathed
in its warm embrace;
have felt the pull
and push of tides
about us as we swam
like children
in their mother's arms.
Escaped my former golden cage
For this room near the sea
Feeling the breeze of freedom
Four walls of serenity

Escaped your toxic attraction
Found my heart falling for someone new
Feeling the emotions floating
Longing to know her better

Seeing the end of the tunnel
Reaching a new crossroad
Feeling a release of dopamine
Putting my energy in something new

Anxious voice telling me that it all may fail
Doubt running in my veins
But I do deserve happiness
I want to believe in this momentum
It is to that place
In song
That I retreat
To wait for you.
My idle life
Is halfway spent
in the Apple Orchard;

Its in that place,
That I lye alone.
Its in that place
I hide from love.
Its in that place
That I'll awaken from,
And  never-
I'll never
The sorrow is sapphire and longing azure-  
regret and disdain- different shades of umber.  
while rage is vermilion, with scarlet tones
my body is topaz, and auburn my bones.
My minds eye is purple
a lavender/violet hue
and the blood in my head is
ultramarine royal blue.
my music is colorless
and my writings are white
my drawings translucent
silver my sight.
while my wonder is fuchsia
and my sixth sense is gold-
My love is a rainbow,
like this poem I've just told.

if you color your life you'll see each has its own
unique special shade
& magical tone.
you'll notice there's always
some, color shown.

Even in the dark.
the stream is a breeze of
blue stars, layered in sweet
melancholy, layered in
sadness and love.

the world revolves like
a wheel, burgeons like
a flower, weeps like a
sorrowful cloud.

i yearn for you, down
misty lanes and dreams of
dark seas, fall until
i can no longer fall,

fall until our love blossoms
and our hearts cry out.
i'm sorry if i have not returned a comment it is really down to time and trying to find the right balance in my life between poetry and loved ones.
I wish there was a term
to describe the sensation of
thinking too much about the end
and the shadowy outline of the plot in between,
yet when I look up from my phone
to discover the hours have flown by
drowned in hyper, tuned voices blended together,
bright, artificial colors radiating from a screen,
profanity and insensitive depictions of life
scattered across the interface of the internet
like shattered scraps of stars and meteors
in the galaxy,
I realize that I wasn't ever really
thinking at all,
drowning out life's mysteries
in the undiscovered depths of the ocean
and my quest to seek knowledge so expansive
that I'd wrap it around the universe twice,
I didn't look outside and see
the present forces of nature and its boundaries
in a world of mankind and destruction,
didn't really want to listen to
what my parents needed me to hear,
the moments when I should've grown
a layer of maturity and capability
to support us all in an environment
of which needs drastic change and improvement,
didn't say the words my brother
needed to hear and process,
the jumbled up pieces of advice and experience
from a responsible older sister
who was able to put on her big girl pants
and educate him about the crooked ways
of the world,
and didn't build up the hard shell of defense
against the addicting symptoms of depression
and anxiety from a society
that is materialistic, sensual,
and rotten to the core
all this time, enveloped in the gray
static of my own mind,
never able to break free because
I couldn't concentrate,
and there were so many things more appealing
that flashed across my screen,
so many other realities I'd rather live in,
in the end, it all just comes back to this,
my inability to be present
and to feel worth in my own existence
as a human being,
I wish there was a term
to describe a person who means well,
who can envision herself striving
to become a more dynamic, open, and thoughtful person
who used to be told by others
that she worries and thinks too much,
who used to be able to feel
the weight of her family's value on her shoulders,
but who also now at the same time
struggles to stay and confront the cruel reality of the world
that actually exists,  
who can't help but flash pretty scenery,
flowing sugary words, and beautiful illusions
across her screen to keep herself sane and awake,
who has to convince herself time and again
of the evidence that she exists,
an entity that is just as much as everyone else
entitled to a sense of life,
and who needs to remember that pain
is something to learn and grow from,
not just an excuse to tune out
from the world's problems
and head into the gray mindless static.
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