It's just a sleeve.
It's only a glove with loose threads
and small but growing holes
that let in the cold and allow
a glimpse of a frayed soul,
revealing the human that lies within
after all.

Trailing my fingers along the weathered spines
Which one should I pick?

Alone by a wharf
Peaceful yet forlorn
Wishing I could morph
To mask how badly I'm worn
Wish I was strong
The way I used to be
But where I am, is where I belong
The pain will pass, there'll be jubilee
But first I have to crush the glass of the once before chary and elusive me

As young children,
we most desired toys.
How precious they were,
on every occasion that gave.

We cherished our toys,
for the joy they brought.
Showing them off to others,
so proud of what we had.

But, eventually...
we grew tired of them.
Sometimes quickly,
they became worn and old.

Our interest elsewhere..
all the new toys out there.
Nobody wants used toys,
they're no good anymore.

It has to be shiny and better,
that's much more exciting.
So we discard our old toys,
after we've played them out.

She is obsessed with toys,
and I am her doll...
but now I am old and worn,
and playtime is over.

To be here, to be out of sight,
Until dawn comes, you blacken my sky,
You know that this is just another
Sad song, a "useless poem" of pain,
Another "lie," another somber "waste of space."

Well there is "hope" at the end of my tunnel,
Or is there? I gave up on this poem and that,
It all came out sad...much like the darkened
truth of my well worn path. This is the end,
Then there might just be you (my friend?)

No such thing as the word of peace,
This is it, will I wander out into the blank,
And pretend I can make it a simple world of
Joy, because that is what makes people clap?
Sorry, but I guess I had to be sarcastic,
This mouth of mine that always must flap.

*When was there a time when my peers didn't
Always get mad? It's become a common place truth,
I have no actual friends, gone my days of
Wild care-free youth, even school wasn't as
Bad as having to somehow live with you.