I slog through this museum of people living their best life.
I hold my phone tightly.
Like an emotional support animal,
Cocooned in my bed.
I dig through people's lives like someone stuck in an avalanche.
The only movement I have are my fingers, swiping.
My body groans as it realizes it will be frozen through time.
It's 1PM and I’ve been awake since 6 AM scrolling.
It's hard to breathe, I can feel the weight in this Sarcophagus I built.
I force myself to focus in my own lane.
I can see someone had their heart broken,
It stands out in a crowded room like a glow stick.
Everyone can see your pain.
Everyone knows that we have been there and they regretfully have done that.
So let me stay on my island,
Barricading my insecurities and tucking them into my vulnerabilities
Until you can't see what’s hindsight with my 20-20 vision.
I’ll pile my damaged goods till it seeps out of the storage boxes with childhood toys in my mind
You will see my mind will grow calluses that built this lighthouse on my island
To let people know that I am damaged goods.
So steer clear, find your cargo elsewhere else.
So let's hear it,
What makes you think I can trust you.
