Why am I here
What is my purpose

I thought this feeling of unimportance would dwindle after reaching adulthood

But, now it's been 5 years and I still cant stand being "here"

When does it get better
When do things stop hurting

When do the people I cherish care to stick around.

When do "friends" become friends.

The world does not end with fury
And fire, blood ridden lakes with floating
Corpses and flies picking at our remains
As shells fall like leaves in autumn

It ends with beauty as a sin
And silence preferred over truth.
It ends with hollow men who hide
Behind dull eyes, sapped of all light

When pricked these men don't bleed
But spill forth mounds of straw

These are the
darker days
Highlights have turned
into grays
Teardrops stain my
pillowcase
Maybe I'm not
thinking straight

But I dont want to be here
My mind is digging deeper
This pit is inescapable
I'm falling down an endless hole.

memories,

they draw me in.

false promises and tales of what was

and what could’ve been.

my cup runs dry

but i drink anyway;

i drink it away.

i search for myself in a crowded room

i catch a glimpse of her,

but she leaves too soon.

who i was

and who i am,

staring at the back

of who i could’ve been

Here's a funny thing 'bout clowns:
NOTHING. They eat babies and ****
Young men until they get their fill,
Hang kittens by their window sill,
Send texts from behind the wheel,
Name their daughters things like Neil,
Use way too much salt on every meal,
Leave you on read just for the thrill,
And put their names in your nan's will

Actually, the balloon animals are pretty cool I guess

Neon lights, pouring rain and the smell
Of ash. I missed the ferry and
Stand soaked, alone in a crowd of
People, tears hidden by the rain

I feel like a crumbling
Wall, lashed by the tempest

when the rose petals fall
like the season of forgotten leaves
will you still remember me?
i wish i could have stopped the bleed

All that was fixed floated before
My eyes. Blood ridden rags flew like doves
Of peace outside my window.
Pictures of slaves framed as freedom

Ink in the pen replaced
With blood and  yellow bile.

I don't know what will happen when I die.
But I do know what will happen if I don't try.
So today, even though I want to cry
From all the stress, the pain, the fear,
The loneliness I feel, the **** that's real
No matter how much I try to deny,
My eyes will stay dry.
I'll try.

My eyes
are windows
to my soul
and i can’t seem
to draw
the blinds.