I think the saddest thing
is when someone stops longing to be understood
When you, a poet, lays down your pen
after too many unheard words
you stop going to therapy
because you have said all you can out loud
You stop faking your smile
and nobody notices,
maybe they knew it was fake all along
nobody reaches out once you stop asking about them first
In the end you’ll fade away just as you wished

I’m sorry if my words
don’t make much sense anymore.

I can’t seem to shake
This bleakness,
the fog that has inhabited my brain.
I like to think that sometimes for days,
even weeks at a time
clouds will cover the sun,
Yet it still shines brighter than anything else
I pray my clouds will part
and allow the sun to kiss my skin once again
I just need to keep in mind that
the sun can hurt people too

How does one learn to love themselves
and the body they live in?
If I had the ability to rip this skin
from my being and throw it all away,
I would
I would take myself apart
piece by piece,
right down to the soul
I would bare it for the world to see
so they can finally understand
it’s not all in my head.
Do you still want me?
Do you finally see me?
Trust me, neither do I.

Have you ever had a coping mechanism
ripped right out from under you?
Your demon who promised to never leave you
is taken without your permission
or just stops working one day?
Do you have any idea what that does to someone?
I have become so rampant
so out of control
all in search of a new one
I don’t think I have ever hated myself
as much as I do today,
or as much as I will tomorrow

Why would I beg for a caring hand
when I can just pay for one?

And I know that
if I begged my mom to talk to me
before I killed myself,
she still wouldn’t pick up