Open your eyes to see beyond the past,
Time, a reel unwound, looping too fast.
Enter future dreams lush with tears,
A kaleidoscope of fears and forgotten years.

The cigarette falls from her shaking fingers,
Ashes trace whispers where memory lingers.
Time, a distraction, but isn’t it all?
Strangers and entourage drift through the hall.

She was once a distraction—
A neon sign, a feverish attraction.
Now she’s a diagnosis,
A manic-depressive prognosis.

Regrets for the war within her rage,
Her soul, a novel with torn-out pages.
And yet, from silence, words flow clear,
Like ghosts dictating stories she can't bear.

Who are the strangers in this tableau?
Her reflection in fragments she’ll never know.
Time’s cruel arrow bends to her despair,
A loop of smoke curling in air.

Open your eyes, the past refrains,
Its endless echoes clatter in chains.
Yet futures gleam with dreams profane—
She writes them in ashes, again and again.

Do
You
Really
Love me?
It’s probably
A me
Problem
But why
Can’t I
See it? Why
Don’t I
Feel cared for
When I text you anymore?
Maybe you
Used to;
Maybe you did
But what got rid
Of those feelings?
Because every time
I’m
Dealing
With you and your
Issues I pour
My heart and soul into
Helping you
But I’ve just
Never been checked on
Without me breaking first.
Always been looked upon
As support for you to lean
Against but that just means
I’ve always carried your weight;
Forever stuck in a stalemate;
Not yet dead
But nowhere to run instead.
Can you tell
How much I love you
And how much I wish you
Loved me too?

I don't want to wear
Resilience as a badge anymore
And honestly I wonder when
Resilience because such a compliment.

Like, why do I have to
Barely thrive to survive or feel praised?
And when did society start
To see hardship as a metric of accolade?

I don't need another thing
To solidify my strength
I just want to live in peace.
To be. To breathe.

I'm so tired of being tough
When is resilience resilient enough?
I don't want to wear this crown.
I just want to go lay down.

©KSS 6/2024

there once was a tailor
who lived in a place unknown
his place was small
but i guess, it was home

he sewed clothes
for people far and wide
with nothing but a thin needle
and fabric by his side.

his job wasn't easy
he worked and worked all day
and the money it made?
well, it barely paid.

but he loved what he did,
with his stitches and thread,
so every night he would lay down
and dream happily in his bed

one day
he got a strange request
he had to make a special robe-
a golden dress.

he tried to explain
this was more than he could do
that this is impossible
but she didn't believe him- so now, he's blue

he tried and tried
but it couldn't be done.
she wanted hundreds of stitches
but he could only do one.

he felt so awful
judging many times over three
so he hung himself
on a branch of the olive tree

the woman was mad
at the tailor
she called him lazy
called him as useless as a sailor

so in the end
nobody won
she didn't get her dress
and the tailor killed himself
because that task simply couldn't be done.

and now,
the olives that come from the tree
remind everyone of him-
and what couldn't be.

hahaha
bahaha
****
lol
whyyy
is what i say
but what i want to say
is this:
help me
i'm so alone
i just need a friend
i need help
please
no
everyone keeps leaving me
but i know
if i say any of that ****
you'll run away
just like they all did

i just want to be
a normal human being
is that too much to ask?

why can't i just be
a normal human being
like everyone else

i sure wish i was
a normal human being
but i never will be

patty cake
patty cake
baker's man
in the broken mirror
i slap my own hands
blood trickles down
from my skin
please
let me in
patty cake
patty cake
baker's man
please
be my friend
while you still can

i wonder
what you ever did
with all of the friendship bracelets
we had
i still wear them
it hurts too much to take them off

i wonder
if you still remember our secret handshake
that we made up
in the 2nd grade
and kept using
for years
i still practice it
with my tear-stained reflection
in the broken mirror

i wonder
if you still think about me
as often as i think about you
i keep going back
to our old, happy memories
the ones that you (probably) forgot
i sure hope not
because those are the memories
i can't get myself to throw away

i wonder
what you did
with all the pictures of me on your phone
did you delete them
or do you just keep them there
leaving them alone,
just like you did with the real me
i can't believe
that i managed
to cut your face out of a photo
a hole of emptiness-
resembling the one in my soul

i really miss you
but friends grow apart, i guess

My life is an act.
I'm pretending all the time.
And the crazy thing is that it's still not right.
It's still not enough.
Again and again, i ask the world "why cant i be normal?"
The world never responds.
I play every part I'm asked, but an actor can't play two in the same scene.
What do you want me to do?
I don't understand

I'm so tired