hell, i'm doing so well getting sleep eating vegetables running on the treadmill finishing my homework staying off my phone
so why do i feel kind of numb? why do i dream of nothing and why does this food have no taste and why can't i catch my breath and why haven't i talked to my friends in days and why do i want someone to punch me
i feel so sick energy drinks every morning throwing up every night looking at my figure in the mirror blisters on my hands words caught in my throat
"I wish I could fight." "You can." "How? I don't know how to punch or move." "You fight with words. It's called kung fu typing." "Kung fu typing? Did you just make that up? Doesn't sound very cool." "It's not supposed to be. But if you master it, you'll never need to worry about not knowing how to punch or move."
You confuse karate with love. You punch, kick, and block. You master the form, Practice and practice. You remember the creed. Karate is not love. You don’t kickstart the heart, You can’t block love out, Or punch it into submission.
I confuse love with poetry. I read, write, and dream. I master the edict of the pen, Recite and recite. I remember the sonnets. Poetry is not love. You don’t stanza the heart, You can’t make a metaphor out of love, Or personify it into breathing.
When will we learn? When will you stop kicking Cupid? When will I stop serenading him? When will we stop this silly interpretation of love?