They say to learn discipline
you have to train your brain like a  dog.
So to heal, do I raise my heart like a child?
I put bandaids on cuts that are a little over minor.
I cannot risk help that is greater than me
afraid it might be diagnosed with something fatal.
I say you cannot indulge in memory of who is now
when your mind is supposed to sleep by 8.
I hold it's hand in big unfamiliar places.
I say it's okay to express yourself
but when expression turns into deflection
I thought it may be time for a nap.
I fed you portion sizes bites of courage
I don't remember why I always fed you chunks of lost hope.
I am sorry.
I let you roam outside to explore and play.
You come back with a small scrape.
I haven't let you back outside for a while.
I'm afraid you find no joy in playing anymore.
You have dreams of going to back to who was then.
Riding the roller coaster of emotions.
Cotton candied hope.
never ending building blocks of devotion.
doesn't it sound fun?
Horrifying.
I've whipped my brain into a machine.
My heart has it's own mind.
I think it's okay to let my heart grow and touch what's
outside of me once in awhile.

And that's okay but,
i'll never admit this to you so I'll say it here,
where I know you won't see it.
I miss you.
Why do I deny myself the chance to go after
the love I deserve?

I have 1,440 minutes.
How many memories can my cerebrum calculate?
There's this ache in my head.
I want it to go away.
Throwing my brain off a cliff
would not make things okay.
Perhaps I'll be like the rest
braindead and my pupils won't respond to your light.
If you would stop lingering here
wouldn't that mean I'll be alright?
The lights fade my eyes close.
A new 24 hour period is proposed
What was yesterday
no remembrance of what whoever was
There's something I'm supposed to be holding on too.
Time is slowing
My days are meshing into each other
I'm literally so full of myself.
There's a familiarity in this feeling.
Not only that someone who touched it with clarity.
The lights fade, my eyes close.
What was yesterday
I have completely forgotten about what was
and who is now.
Nothing to consume.
The entire day feels like 30 minutes and I'm just eating at
the second's left overs.
The lights fade
This time when my eyes close there's a face I pushed out
by force
and it reminds me of all I have abandoned.
I cannot open my eyes I'm forced to rest.
I NEED TO WAKE UP.
In hopes of not forgetting tomorrow.
I HAVE TO WAKE UP.
I woke up.
Lost memory of my last name.
Who I am supposed to be,
But there's a feeling that is harboured in me.
A feeling that used to rip me to sheds
Is now warm and fragile.
What sparked this feeling?
I fall asleep earlier than I'm supposed too,
and forget all that ever supposed to be.
Have you forced yourself to forget who I am and what we were too?

The world feels lifeless as I see life everywhere.
I know the people who cross the street breathe
the same air I do.
I know the trees I walk past are very much alive.
But the picture my eyes are allowing me to see
feels unauthentic.
Maybe it's not the world.
Maybe it's the way I'm looking at it.
Maybe I picked at my mind too hard
Dug into my subconscious too deep,
now it all looks fake.
My feelings about it all are illegible.
The change that will come is inevitable.
If not I'll force it.
I'll forge a way to see the beauty of the sky again
I hope misanthropy doesn't take me away.
I'd like to find joy in the people who always smile
when I did, again.
To trust others and the fullness of what makes up the world.
To not always figure out the reason for everything.
The universe is always reforming itself
I'll never be able to catch up with it or the why's
of why people are the way they are
or what actually makes me, who I am.
What gives me the ability to still grip onto life
as I'm opposed to it.
I hope I enjoy it all before I fade away.

There's a blockage in my creativity pipe.
There's some potential I haven't tapped into yet,
I read old pieces and wonder
where is that inspiration?
I'd hate to think it's because I'm over the fact you left.
Why am I only able to create when my heart
doesn't function how it should?
The words are falling out of my head
I wish they would fall onto the page.
I used to be all the 3 "I's" in imagination
Originality ran through my blood
I could mold my pain into something so delicate.
I touched people's soul with a simple sentence.
And now I can't even create something I'm mildly okay with.
There's no endearment to kiss on letters.
Nothing to set my eyes on.
I guess alterations had to be made.
There's a blockage somewhere inside of me.
A change is coming.
This is more than a simple poem.
When you feel this lost, you are bound to find
what your soul is searching for.

When you lose your mind to find your soul.
There's pieces of you that are left behind on purpose.
Pieces that are lost from your mind,
that you have to find again.
Chunks of me were knocked out by devotion.
Blessed with gifts of a reconstructor,
Given the title "autodidact".
When all the love 1 human can channel has gone dismissed
Do you know how much willpower it takes
for that human to learn not just to love again
To love themselves over the expected limit.
I begin to think I've done it all wrong.
There's this selfish dedication that I have towards myself.
I refuse to indulge in any type of intimacy.
Afraid of picking up pieces that are supposed to be apart of me.
I can only allow myself to love me.
Anything other than that is foreign to me.
I do not need your commitment
I have shown myself that word is an understatement.
I wipe my own tears.
I hug myself.
I wake up and force myself to eat when I do not want too.
That is the allegiance I have for myself.
I do not NEED you.
So I HAVE TO be everything I want in the next so I do not
fail myself by begging like a dog just for reciprocation.
I'm labeled independent by some.
Characterized myself as foolish,
for not realizing that it is adequate for any version of love
to love me as much as I do.