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I wonder if I've actually learned
Or if I'm worth the things I've done
I wonder if I should keep trying.
If I should just keep trying.
Or maybe I should just quit
I'm not good enough anyway,
I know
I'll never be good enough.
But my options are little.
And so I give it my all.
And I study and I think and I think and I study
And why
Why do I always have to try
So much harder..
K May 19
hilarious how love never solves anything
you claim to love me, to want me.
and yet, i refuse to do the same.

there's a secret i wish i could tell you
about the things you think you know
the people. the lies they've told you.

oh goodness, you're on the floor again.
don't you know how to stand?
i've spent years picking myself up,
dusting off my own knees,
and here you are, needing support
only to stand on your own.

resentment spreads through my veins
icy hot anger, hatred spews from my heart.
i hate you. i hate you. i hate you. i hate you.
the words taste of sugar on my tongue.

free. sweet. real.
the closest to fresh air my lungs have felt.
men feel so tall and mighty until you remind them what they are
In shadows deep, where hope seems lost
A weary heart, with dreams exhaust
I find myself in depths of despair
With whispered echoes of a soul laid bare

The weight of burdens, a heavy shroud
Tugging at my spirit, like a tempest loud
Every step forward feels like a fall
As I stumble through life's endless hall

The road ahead, a winding maze
Where dreams dissolve in a sorrowful haze
Fatigue engulfs my every bone
As I yearn for solace, to be left alone

The stars above, once shining bright
Now flicker weakly in the darkest night
Their distant glow, a mocking tease
Amidst my longing for inner peace

To release this fight
To surrender to the consuming night
To lay down arms and concede defeat
In the embrace of silence, find retreat

But deep within, a whisper remains
A faint flame of hope that still sustains
Though weary, battered, and scarred, I see
A glimmer of strength, still resides in me

For life's trials, are a test
To push us further, to our very best
Though darkness looms, I'll rise anew
Embracing battles, both old and new

I'll cast aside the thoughts of surrender
And find strength within, fierce and tender
For even in moments of doubt and strife
I'll persevere to embrace this precious life
My body may fatigue, but recovers, my soul is tired, but never seems to find any rest.
xavier thomas May 16
Internally I blame self-consciously self-inflict imaginary damage to lower my bright soul into a box
externally unconsciously making
my body sick
blaming other elements
around me
as seasons change
When I think about it,
I replay your words
I shouldn’t have to answer to
knowing truthfully I did nothing wrong to make you think I’m untrustworthy or that I’m a threat.
But because guilt exist,
It causes me to think I actually did you wrong.
B Apr 27
20th birthday
I've forgotten when to breathe
and my mother is my only friend
the last one yet to leave.
I am feverish skin
to the first of March's chill breeze
tripping over, again and again
afraid to pull my hands from my sleeve.
20 years old now
a full on woman in sheep's clothing
but I don't know how
to live life without loathing
love, and bills, and here and now's.
Myself, pulling on a window that's already closing.
K Apr 27
if you were to call me today
and asked me to stay
i'd be on the first flight home yesterday.

when my friends ask me why
i tell them i had to try
even if it was the hardest goodbye.

i wonder if you have any regrets
if there are things you wish we said
personally, i wish i caught on sooner
and i wish that knot didn't come undone.

and when i woke up, alone, neck bruised
breathing shallow, police at the door,
all i wanted was I'm Sorry

an explanation that actually made sense

I wanted you to see me.
no one will see this until it's too late
how will you react when you find out i'm gone ?
“This isn’t working.”
What a funny way to say that you’re leaving
A phrase that is arguably too simple for the mess it leaves behind

“It isn’t your fault.”
A cliche if I’ve ever heard one,
And trust me, I’ve heard many over the years

“I wasn’t ready.”
A funny thing to say
When you know at the beginning of anything
Whether you’re ready for it or not

And… “I don’t have time.”
And that’s what it all comes down to,
Isn’t it?

You didn’t have time to deal with me
Didn’t have time to communicate
Didn’t have time to put in the work

You didn’t want to MAKE time
Because I guess you never really
Cared about me in the first place
I'm still thinking of you, three months after everything, and I know it isn't fair to the people I love, but sometimes, you become addicted to the pain of wishing things had gone differently...
Countdowns have always seemed bittersweet to me..
The steady ticking away of time
The trickle of sand through the hourglass.
The fading of connections not curated.

I’ve always been morbidly aware of my own doomsday clock,
Slowly beating, decreasing, releasing my
Seconds into the atmosphere around me,
As I wait, sometimes impatiently, for it to hit zero.

Some days, I hope for my hourglass to run dry,
And while I know that that isn’t a healthy mindset,
Some days it is all that I can do to not hurry it along.

Not to take that revolver in my dad’s lockbox,
Not to take those pills in the medicine cabinet,
Not to take that rope and the one wobbly stool
that has sat at our bar for the past five years…

Just beckoning me.
Just wanting me to take that final step
into sweet, sweet oblivion.

If I do take that final step..
Who would be there to pick up the pieces for them?
To clean up the mess that this disgusting body left behind?

Who would be there to finish my paintings,
To sing my unsung list that is ever-expanding,
To write these words that have seemed so forced these past months?

Who would be there for them, when I could not be?
Someone, I am sure, but I have been told that I am irreplaceable,
And while I may not believe that,
I am scared of leaving a mess behind
That my mother cannot bring herself to clean up.

I am scared of leaving behind a mess that would irrevocably break my father,
A mess that would torment my brothers,
A mess that my sisters would never even remember.

And maybe..
Maybe I am scared of the call of oblivion..
Or scared of the unknowingness of it all, rather.

Or perhaps I am tired of thinking
of myself as a mess to be cleaned up,
Nothing more, and nothing less.

And maybe
That is all I need
To survive one more day.
I haven't been as active as I used to be.. Life gets tiring after awhile.
Sky Apr 14
There's this constant feeling
of relentlessly being dragged
through any number of things;

cold snow chokes my airways,

cold water fills my lungs

dirt dances on top of my eyes

and mud leaves its messy mark.

I can't cut loose, this attachment
is just life;
Time pulls and tugs and does not care
if you wish to stop here or there.

The untameable beast, taking bites
from our bodies
Pulls me forward and through
raging seas
It doesn't try to drown me,
just expects me survive
Even as I choke and gasp,
even as I beg and cry.

I wish to rest, just give me a breath–
the passage of time
will pass me by

where am I?
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