You know, it's funny
We never anticipate the ways
We're gonna isolate ourselves
From the ones we care about

Each so beautifully different,
Strong and seemingly unbreakable,
Yet overwhelmingly fragile.

Lay a foundation,
Jagged, unmatched and rough.
Does it fit?

Continue to build,
Each layer grows stronger,
More impenetrable.

A whirlwind topples a few stones.

New reinforcement.
Stronger, and with more determination.
Need to protect.

A wave of you crashes down and threatens stability.

Work harder, work faster.
Salvage the progress,
And continue to add.

Meanwhile -

E
v
e
r
y
o
n
e

attempts to chisel away.

Some make dents,
Some holes,
Some take down sections.

But the hard work perseveres.
And the wall remains.

broken shoes on your feet, grief for a family that aren't dead - just dead to you - on your back and a book in your pocket. a book about a man you idolise. by that same man you idolise. his songs, his words, his honesty. a similar honesty that takes up the blank spaces in the notebook that resides in your other pocket. our griefs, though different, united us. yet while you begin to live, i start to die. again.

You won’t leave right?
I don’t want you to leave
I hate being isolated
I do like to be connected with others
Whether it’s in the streets
School, work,
I do hate to be alone
Heck, I can’t be alone
Even if my own room or home
I need to hear my mother’s cooking
My father’s typing at his computer above me
My sister’s awful singing
My brother playing football outside

And your voice
Telling me things
Will
Be
Ok
Someday

Don’t leave.
Ok?

By Arcassin Burnham

Spare the details , scratching with these nails,
One look at me and your body will be mangled while being
impaled,
I'm not a ****** or a murderer , I just love to create art,
Where ever my pencil will take me and I'll I feast on the fact
that I'll let you relish in that,
I'm emotionless to pain even when it's brought by the bat,
Experience hatred for a world where men will slaughter other
men,
Where evil thrives and the man upstairs won't come down
to defend,
The idea of killing my boss in the past , it'll had made me
laugh , how can I pretend?
Where is my purpose in this life when that purpose is
clipped from under me?
As far as I'm concerned , there's more books to burn
of a past that no one knows,
I'd rather isolate myself while watching the *******
world set a blaze in a perfect cemetery.

I keep the TV on, because when I do it feels like I'm living.
I keep my browser running, because when I do, it feels like I'm feeling.
I keep my movement low, because I'm slow, because I'm softer
and I burrow deep beneath my sheets to forget that I'm a daughter.
World's potential rages, shapes and faces overwhelm me,
and I'm screaming silent for the quiet that I feel like I am missing.
I want to touch you, see you, hold you, speak without restriction.
But I numb my mind in sounds and lights, so that I can slip away.

Over-stimulation cradles what craves to be kinetic,
pacifies the glowing inside craving open air.
I cannot move, I cannot go, I'm too afraid to ride the ride
and so I'll sit behind the lines
and participate by watching.

And here we'll watch the world together- and also so alone
would that I could
rip free the bandage
and leave my ***** home.

and the internet praises the introvert and tells us we're secretly deep.
And we dress our wounds with wasted time until we fall asleep.

And in my dreams I'm running, fighting, TRYING SO HARD
to break free.
And in the morning, I shudder, shake them off
and dim the light in me.

And day after day
back, here we go,
back to the flickering screen.

My insides crash
And my lungs explode
And my eyes squeeze shut
And everything is urgent.
Muscles tense like that last argument -
You yelled, I cried.
Isolate. Isolate.
Go away.
Numb, yet bursting with pain;
Shot down & wounded.
Truly an attack.