Crying softly, I rest a hand on your cheek.
"Everything's going to be okay."
"You didn't need them anyway!"
Until your face turns into ashes.

An unrecognisable mass that once was you.
What happened to the you I knew?
I hear glass shatter.
As your silhouette gets further.

I don't understand why you always look so sad.
Life would be so much easier if you were glad.
But when I touch your pretty face.
Your porcelain skin starts to break.

I look through the glass.
"I'm doing okay.
I am okay.
Even though I needed them, anyway."
Then the glass breaks.

Words echoing through the cave that is my mind.
Trying to put all the pieces back together.
But they can never fit just quite right.
It's always you, but not the one that I knew.

"Today is a good day."
I lie.
"You can do it."
I lie.

"You're stable, happy with life.
One day, you'll make the perfect wife."
I look into the mirror.
Then my face turns to black.

Anxiety glows in the dark
The nightlight you can’t turn off
Bioluminescence highlighting the worry lines on your face

I’ve been saying things outloud recently
to try and help me deal with stuff, y'know stuff like
she’ll never love you
stuff like
you have an anxiety disorder you broken *******

i dont know that its helping

she remains the gum stuck to the underside of my tabletop mind
grows stale while I endlessly chew over her memories
my jaw grows sore – tastes bitter and salty, like tears in your morning coffee
and that would be a terrible flavor for gum

its like cry driveways because you told yourself you deserve to be happy and your mind couldn't ******* handle it
couldn't process that
instead the logic leaks out your eyes and disperses in every throaty gag of misplaced regret
my eyes need windshield wipers and my windshield wipers need to be replaced.
the new ones are in the backseat but its been so cold i haven't gotten around to it.

It’s bad form to show emotions at work
Instead you write ****** poetry, one arm covering your paper like a 4th grader who doesn’t want anyone to steal his test answers
where am i going with this? is this just a venting poem?
a poem to feed the seed of depression born out of our sapling romance?
I need a 2 drop spell, tap 1 and a blue
Counter target emotion
That was a magic the gathering reference but I don’t expect you to get it.
im rambling now - scrambling thoughts of her cascading down my interior monologue
blink and her face has been burned into the nightlit darkness that waits behind my eyelids.
she can join the rest of the crew there, like a ****** up breakfast club of regrets that comes to shake hands every morning

i've never seen that movie but hey, at least it’s a reference you'll probably get

ugh. This got sad fast. I’m sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night. i couldn’t turn off my nightlight.

tired. It feels like I'm one
step behind my own body. A fraction
of my potential at all times; none
of my muses remain, just distractions.

angry. All the time I spend
thinking about who I am, who
I'm not, what I do, to what end
are the goals I set mine to pursue?

disappointed. I was great
in the past, and suppose I still am
by metrics other people create,
but compared to me? I'm just a sham.

weak. Paradoxically, given
my stature. Erase that, and I'm nothing
more than a life. Hardly living,
with or without living for something.

But truly, above all else? I'm so
honored to be the star of the show.

Lie to me and tell me everything's okay
Even though it doesn't seem that way and the clouds are getting darker and closing in
And no one is human among these sons of men
who chase the paper and will cut anything in their way
Yea everything will be okay
Even though it doesn't look like that's the case
and I pray that the time I'm giving you isn't a waste
Because I have no leftovers to give
And it's getting harder and harder to live
To breathe
To think ...

Knew that in this food chain there's a missing link
Between God and me
And it's something I can't see  
And I'm not sure if I will ever be able to do the things you want from me but Maybe that's not the path I'm taking
Jus like how they say promises are meant for breaking
And all I know is I'm looking for an awakening .
Some kind of realization or explanation for why it's so hard right now..
Why can't I figure out how ..
To be successful and carefree and live life the way it's supposed to be - just letting the vibes flow effortlessly

Scream.
I.
Scream.

My throat hurts.
But the scream was soft.
My pillow holds all my screams.
So they can never escape.

I feel better.

Cry.
I.
Cry.

My eyes burn.
But my eyes won't water anymore.
My pillow holds all my tears.
So they can never escape.

I feel better.

I go to punch my pillow.
I need to vent.
Let it out.
Out.

Bleed.
I.
Bleed.

My knuckles are bruised.
The kid in front of me is crying.
Where is my pillow?
Where am I?

I feel awful.

Scream.
I.
Scream.

But this time.
Everyone can hear.
My pained cries echo the streets.
I can't hold it in anymore.

Blood trickles down my throat.
My eyes are red and puffy.
My knuckles are ****** from punching the pavement.
I can't stop.

I keep crying.
I keep screaming.
I keep punching.
I keep doing it.

Breathe.
I.
Breathe.

I can finally breathe.
After all this time.
I finally realised.
My pillow was suffocating me.

What is it about a stranger
that makes it easier to
p
o

u


r



your heart out?

My faith disappeared like a thief in the night.
I tried to hold on but I have no more fight.
I want to believe that ill be alright,
But I'm stuck behind this broken red light.

I haven't cried so my tears aren't recorded,
But that doesn't mean in not broken hearted.

I know things could be worse,
But Im no competition with others to see who got it worse.
My heart truly breaks for anyone going through hard times.
But the pain I feel the most is mines.

I haven't cried so my tears aren't recorded,
But that doesn't mean in not broken hearted.

There is no way to tell how Im feeling without sound like Im complaining.
But the amount out rejections I acumilate is draining.
I might as well change my name to reject.
Because everything I touch isn't correct.

Silly little floater,
a ghost memory,
words of silence
dissipated into my head
like melted goo;
it wants to knock
but it's been forgotten
and the door hinges are rusty,
old, practically archaic;
it floats by my eyes
and I could almost taste
the sting and tang of what happened
yet it's nothing but a floater,
a little mix up in the view,
nothing to remember.