On the windowsill, all flailing
Legs and desperation—
At times, it attempts to fly
Away, but soon enough it gives
That up as if to say,
“I can’t.”

The movements get smaller and
Slower, but occasionally there are bouts
Of hysteria
(𝙒𝙃𝙔 𝙈𝙀)
Until eventually nothing is left but a
Feeble twitch and really the question
That you should be asking is:
“Is it still alive?”

It is still alive.

It is still alive but it is tired.

Slowly…
Slowly…
Slowly…

I’m so tired.
But I need to be better.
If I am not,
What is the point of doing?

My ankles were sore
From standing on my
Tiptoes,
Trying to ascertain
The words in your eyes.
There were none
For me;
You were guarded,
Your gaze obstinate as
You looked straight
Ahead,
Never wavering or
Crouching down to let
Me see into your
Head.

would it seem so wrong to disassociate – to sever ties
from those closest to you, who know where to strike,
piercing through your heart? yet, I lay bare my flesh,
offering myself as a service to people, in the most
fleeting of ways. true friends are a rarity nowadays;
my eyes are unaccustomed to pretend; smiling with
practiced ease before their gaze

and I only have a few tears to shed, shielding myself
from the gossip of the rain. my unclean skin gleams
under the sun’s harsh light – I am a million desolate
stars, yearning for a miracle amidst the lull of dreams

as father time offers no gifts to the innocent, mother
nature trembles at the sight of her fragile offspring –
we, the inhuman

and life demands that you work like a machine,
yet a machine cannot be alive. but in a similar sense,
both the machine and I grow tired – so, so very tired
        ...the machine would love to disassociate.

I’m tired

Of trying all the time

Even when surrounded by people

I feel so  a l o n e




A body without a soul

Leave it behind to rest

Let the world carry on

Without me




I listen to the same songs

Over and over again

Because nothing else

Is loud enough to drown out the pain




Oh, to be a kid again

With no need to overthink

To see the light again

Without drowning myself in the kitchen sink




I want to leave behind

This heavy heart

And fly away to my neverland

Living my life inside a hopeless daydream




I want to be held in your arms

As you talk with that calming voice

So I drift off

And fall asleep

I’m sick and tired of not being able to show the real me,
Pretending to be ‘she’.
‘She’ who has the perfect body,
‘She’ who can audition for the Kardashians probably.
‘She’ who everyone wants to date,
But then again, ‘she’ who everyone hates.
So it concludes i’m happy that i’m not ‘she’,
But everyone night, in the back of my mind
I wish I wasn’t me.

I can't
I can't
I can't
I can't do this
Its too much
Its too
much.
It's
too
much.

I can't think -
I'm forced to think, to think think think about it
All at once
Not at all
I can't -
I don't know
Do you?
Do you know what this is
supposed to be?
Is?
What is -
the meaning
of
everything
nothing
me?

I'm just so
everything
all at once
My mind is broken up into its smallest fragments
scrambling to get it all done,
all in this frantic insane mess, and yet
its so unclear to you
how unable I am.

I'm sorry
I'm sorry
I'm sorry I'msorryI'msorry -
I'msorryIcouldn'tbeeverythingyouwantedmetobe,
I'msorrythatIdidn'­ttryhardenough
I'msorrythatIforgothowtodream
I'msorrythatI'mjusta­kid
I'msorry
I'm sorry.
I'm
Sorry.

I just can't.

“Thanks for asking, but 𝑰
am fine, just a little tired.
𝑪𝒂𝒏’𝒕 complain, you know?
Everybody gets a bit
stressed sometimes, what with
all that we’ve got to 𝒅𝒐.
It’s not like 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 is any different
than any other day, any other person.
𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚 somewhere has it far
worse than I do, so don’t feel sorry
for me. No, 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆 your compassion
for a person who really needs it, not
𝒎𝒆.”