I get quiet when I’m scared
Nervous, when I feel unprepared
I get anxious when I’m alone
Lonely, when I lose sight of myself;
Ungrounded
Far from home....

Too early

It was, is it not?
"No, you're wrong,"
I keep saying this to people;

Do I even stand correct?
Surely not.

I'm...
not yet.

Don't say it,
It doesn't feel so rewarding;
I'm not on a road
I am lost

Uncertain, and probably
delusional...
that's me

I'm standing still
it scares me that I can't move

Am I growing
or was I not?

Maybe, I thought I was.

What's with the words I speak?
I desperately think yet,
it cannot be written in ink

words are at the brink
of emptiness
so deep

What is wrong with me?

I'll wait for a few years,
to go out in the world
People are preparing me,
I know they need to

The world is confusing 'n such;
Many can be bad and harsh
But, now I prefer to stay in a big square box
fractions of solitude experienced in the dark
but uncertainty seeps through the heart
of an immature child that is yet to start

He wasn't sure,
and this is what irritated him.
This sense of helplessness is what he despised.

"You're not fond of this, but all you talk about is yourself, right?"
.
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.
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You.
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you,
.
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.
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you,
.
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.
.

you.



How egotistical.

Hope makes you feel as light as a feather,
But it also binds you, neck wrapped in a tether-
A thin cord made out of leather.

I read the letters,
Filled with promises of forever.
And when I ask myself- if you’ll still love me through any kind of weather,
I’m afraid your answer will be “never”.