#boburnham
I watched tommy's video today
I.. don't know what to say
I want to get out of here
I want to get out of here
I miss the days when the internet was okay
when you were okay
bo burnham was right
tommy was right
they're not alright
It... isn't the same anymore
Nov 24, 2024
Nov 24, 2024 at 3:17 AM UTC
I can't really rhyme very well,
or write.
so... apologies.
[verse 1]
finally asking for some help
and swallowing my pride
friends won’t listen to me
and I’m stabbed in my backside
scared of my own shadow
and watching my every move
giving it my all despite
knowing you’ll disapprove
there it is again,
that funny feeling. that funny feeling.
there it is again,
that funny feeling. that funny feeling.
[verse 2]
writing my own hero
that I thought I’d always need.
giving him the deepest,
darkest flaws inside of me.
broken hearts and promises,
makeshift therapy.
run into burning buildings
always voluntarily
working from dawn to dusk,
told secrets I cannot keep,
work always follows me home
so I cry myself to sleep.
writing to escape this ****** reality
while I sit in silence
and question my sexuality
there it is again,
that funny feeling. that funny feeling.
there it is again,
that funny feeling. that funny feeling.
[verse 3]
sleepless nights, stick & pokes
unblocking my ex
bloodshot eyes, fake smiles,
fill the void with meaningless ***
always stopped when I said no,
but never heard a yes.
stepped outside to call his wife;
left me a crying mess.
total disassociation
lie, say that I’m fine.
googling ptsd
but denying what I find.
exploited daddy issues,
making myself small.
the silent contemplation
of ending it all.
there it is again,
that funny feeling. that funny feeling.
there it is again,
that funny feeling. that funny feeling.
hey, what can you say?
we were overdue.
but it’ll be over soon.
just wait.
ba-da-da, ba-da-da, ba-da-da-da-da-da-da
Jan 1, 2022
Jan 1, 2022 at 11:52 PM UTC
Poetry is an act of narcissism.
Poetry is screaming into the ears of other people.
Poetry is the art of begging strangers to look inside your mind.
Poetry is therapy with the ******* cashflow reversed.
Poetry is an act of narcissism.
This poem is a cry for forgiveness.
I wish I could call It an epilogue, but that it is not.
Hi, I am the poet and I am also an addict.
I am addicted to the attention and love of other people.
I am addicted to the feedback and approval of other people.
I’m 20 and I still act like I’m the only person on earth.
It probably has something to do with my parents.
Or any other way I can shovel the blame off myself.
Sometimes I hate selfless people because I wish I could be like them.
I have not said that out loud before.
I never ******* grew up.
I have not said that out loud before.
Today I spent £20 of my Mother’s money because I convinced myself I deserved it,
Because It’s hard getting out of bed,
Right?
Please see my thoughts.
Today I convinced myself it’s not my fault I get jealous of other people,
I’m a blameless product of my upbringing,
Right?
Please tell me they are okay.
Today I wrote this poem and lay in bed,
And you should pat me on the back for that,
Right?
ART IS DEAD WE KILLED IT ARE YOU HAPPY NOW
Poetry is an act of narcissism.
I am a poet.
Forgive me.
Forgive me.
Forgive me.
Forgive me.
Forgive me.
Mar 5, 2020
Mar 5, 2020 at 12:58 PM UTC