Fear of failure eats me alive
Even if im not drowning
Feels like everyone is frowning
I don't know what they want
But I know I can't give it to them
I don't have what is takes
To bring them snowflakes
In the middle of june

I stare at the blank sheet of paper
And it stares back, a silent taunt
I grasp my pen like a talisman
Hoping to conjure words, not spells of doubt
My hand tightens around its slender form
As if to extract the last drop of life
Red ink bleeds out in anguish
A lifeblood spilled onto the page's white strife
I struggle to tell my story
As my mind and hand fail to synch
And words refuse to flow
The pen scratches, hesitant and slow,
A reluctant heartbeat in my hand's grasp.

In a mirror's honest gaze, I utter...
Dear Thomas,
This is my word to you
Belief is a feast of the eyes
And knowledge-
The power of the mind
But are you wise?
Yes! Til the doubt feasts on you
Like a rat slowly eating
The edges of your life
Taking away everything-
Confidence, wisdom and intelligence,
Defecating trails of struggle and pain
Leaving traces of misery.
What a way to learn.

To the future me...
Believe in yourself
To the past, it was a good lesson,
In the present,
Like a farmer, you stand
in the middle of the field-
That looks everything like your life
Watching... It is a filmstrip,
Detailed images here and there
A few parched areas,
Dying blades of grass
Hopeless crops darted across the field,
But there you are - standing
And hoping for a chance of rain,
A miracle perhaps-which you doubt-
Questioning,
'Will it quench the dry earth?'

Alas, your sweat provides little moisture
To survive a few struggling blades of grass
That humbly open their thin arms
To receive a few drops of life.
They look hopeful, and grateful
So should you.

Sometimes I ask myself, "Who are you?
Do you know where you truly belong?
Why can’t you shine as brightly as others do?
Why aren’t you as beautiful as your mom?
Why do you forget where you came from?
You can barely walk, yet you want to run.
If this darkness never fades, why do you still long for the sun?
Why reach for the sky when you’ve never learned to fly?
Why try to bring joy to others when your own world feels so dry?
I don’t know the right answers,
But I want to read every chapter.
I don’t know if I will ever shine,
But I will try my best to make the impossible mine.

Maybe I'm nails on a chalkboard,
Interrupting peace with every screech.
Your two least favorite foods mixed together
A sight no one wants to see.

Maybe I’m polka dots paired with stripes,
Three clashing shades of pink.
A beat too fast, the words don’t match,
And you’ll never catch up to me.

I’m toast that's burnt, leaves left on the curb,
The promise of fun—but never the one.
And worst of all?
I’m the one who got me there.

I ask myself
The clock ticks on
Atop my shelf

Dreaming and waiting
Nirvana awaiting
Paradise lost
Nay, squandered
And I've been cursed to bear the cost

Am I doing enough?
I toil on end
Cold sweat roll down
With tears descend

Gnawing and gnashing
My future is crashing
Rotting as flies slowly arise
Yes, sullied
By heroes past who signed its demise

Am I doing enough?
Dark cul-de-sac
I tread unsure
No light, no life

Scathing reality
Humbled by hunger
Unsated I perish
Promises shattered
Bustling with dreams now hollow a hive
Am I doing enough to survive?

I’ve seen too much from behind these lids.
I've learned that the dark is no place I can rest.
It shows me everything that hides, or is hid,
Inside every pulse within others foul heads.

I flinch at any kindness like it's going to bite.
For not every smile is given to me to stay.
I keep my room the brightest at night—
So, when I see me, I won't look away.

My body is here, I think. Maybe in part.
But rest is somewhere I left, unclaimed.
I built shrines of silence inside my heart,
Where I hid my echo and gave it a name.

When I am asked, why I never sleep,
A version of me steps in front just to lie.
Cause sleep is a place that's way too deep,
For someone who feels like they already died.

I’ve felt myself moving under my skin—
I'm an actor mouthing some borrowed truth.
I close up and break. The thoughts swarm in.
As I choke on even their quietest proof.

I stay wide awake thinking pain will pass.
It doesn't. It stayed here and laid in my bed.
My comfort is a window of shattered glass—
It never begs me to fix my fractured head.

I taught myself how to speak under pause,
And how not to feel, with blood and meds.
You know love exists? Then show me the clause,
Stating “nothing that lives, is punished when dead.”

I almost opened my heart once. And It burned.
Not with fire—just light I knew I shouldn’t touch.
You say your worth trust? Well see if it returns,
If you abandon it like faith and leave it untouched.

I wish I knew how not to leave my own trail.
But my presence cuts the air, and I can’t pretend.
I stitch it back together, each time I inhale,
My own conscious effort to draw my next breath.

These eyes must stay open. That’s the only rule.
So I count every crack in the wall and the door.
My heartbeats break open. My bloods in a pool.
Not so much now, but that used to mean more.

Might as well be the door, I will not unseal.
Or the me in the mirror would start turning away.
Cause to truly open up, would make it too real.
And nothing that's real in my life, ever stayed.

So never again, will I close my eyes.
Keep your strong skin. And I’ll keep the scars.
I swallowed a lock; in my chest it resides.
And never again, will I open my heart.

If I sit here just long enough,
maybe I'll forget

Just for a minute

If I let the sun kiss my face and the breeze cool my skin,
maybe I can pretend

Just for a minute

If I focus on the birds and my little girls laugh,
if I could just be present

Just for a minute