I should be happy and not so lonesome.
   I am engaged not to many friends .,
            Yet I feel so alone 24/7.

                            You see,
                I'm constantly trapped
                     in my thoughts
                   I have a hard time
               interacting with others
                 That are not like me,
                     which in my life
                   have been 1 person .
          I try to see the good in people
,              but can only spot flaws,
                  and though I'm far
                        from perfect
                    I seek perfection.
                   Why is perfection
                       or perfection
                   to my perception
                    so hard to find?
              And why do we have
                    to be lonely
                   in a world full
                      of people
                 and possibilities?
                 It seems so hard
                To find anything
                That brings us
                   Happiness
        Everything is a mess 🤍

"you're alright."
"it's just a panic attack."
"he's not here."

no, you don't understand.
he is here.
he never left.

he’s not in between my legs,
but he’s still invading my mind.

I don't feel like
myself anymore.

I'm not myself anymore,
not fully.

he's still inside of me.
he never left.

birds are free to fly and soar the skies
while we're hostage of gravity and the ground,
tied by human limbs and tasks, money and bonds,
our friends who deceive us and
families we do not trust.
no feathers to rely on, no bird or angel
can help us leave the floor,
we'll only go down with the passage of time.
there's no hope or sky for the living self,
as there is no ground for
the birds we chase from it.
each to their realm.
pitying each other envying each other
for the ability we do not have.
no escape or faith or help from our enemies,
nothing to change our flesh and life.
our blood carries something but it isn't pretty,
it isn't beautiful, no time to run,
there are no wings on your back and
no feathers on my arms.
this is no way to live. live. live. leave.
this, fear my flight, I would fall to fly,
feel the gravity at its most and decay,
like the angel;
we will all become light.

The days get longer,
It seems,
With less and less excitement
Life becomes boring.

And the late nights cease,
To wake up for the early sun,
For another long day.
It never really seems to end.

Here I am-
Trapped in a cycle
Of my own unhappiness.
Where I torture myself.

That glass piece,
fitting so perfectly
into my palm.
Smooth, cold, round,
holding my hand tighter than any ex-lover before.
That ginger kiss upon my lips,
sending smoke to hug my lungs.

Those IV bags dripping of happiness,
shooting euphoria through my bloodstream.

Anything to keep me from feeling numb.
Anything to prolong my inevitable fall,
back to my own personal purgatory.

Pale faced princess trapped inside the castle in her cotton candy pink dress.
For a while she's been stuck in a mess as broken cassettes play back her regrets.
Cigarettes since she's been dead, trapped inside the castle in her cotton candy pink dress.