#emotionalexhaustion
You have brought me joy.
You have brought me pain.
I have nothing to gain.
I'm just a pen to you.
Losing ink as you write.
I have no might,
to say I'm not alright.
I love you till I sink,
even if you waste my ink.
5d ago
May 30, 2026 at 12:37 AM UTC
Should’ve cried myself to sleep last night—
but the tears only came this morning… I guess
my eyes were too tired to stay open for the pain.
Funny how revenge always looks red-eyed;
bloodshot visions staring back through mirrors
that haven’t slept in days.
They say, “the eyes are windows to the soul,”
but what if mine already closed for business?
All ready to go to bed – lights down low,
curtains drawn; heart in bed before me—
too exhausted to open up…yet somehow,
the morning still slipped through the blinds.
I’ve opened my curtains to it.
May 13
May 13, 2026 at 3:25 PM UTC
I feel like crap.
It isn't the coming and going kind.
It's the stick to you day and night
Occupy your dreams kind.
There's no escape.
I don't want to talk about.
I do but I don't.
It's the leave me alone kind.
It's the ask me what's wrong kind.
It's the care about but don't care about me kind.
It's the I just want to be normal kind.
I want to be good enough kind.
It's the nothingness.
It's the emptiness.
The I want to go home but I can't.
I've lost every part of me.
Give it away and get it back broken
Snapped in half, mutilated.
Now at that point where there is only a little left to give.
And I have decided not to give it away anymore.
I'm keeping it to myself.
Not my friends,
Not my family,
No one.
I can't give it away anymore.
I'm stuck.
I'm stuck.
I'm stuck.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
I am a drop of water from an empty tap –
the waters split in two by Moses’ staff;
a skeletal thing surviving somehow –
a chaff of my own skin, painting over
the scars of every other part of my being.
Sometimes so cold, paralyzed –
masked over time, heart sanitised…
a pandemic; to outdated for _mjolo_
to love solo, but for it all to feel so low.
Because ultimately what I give is all
I hope will return in full back to me;
still it all returns partly, where the ocean
remembers your tears, the deeper you
sink… __this must be my Brink.__
Oct 21, 2025
Oct 21, 2025 at 5:18 PM UTC
__Two-step verification__ — it takes two to fall in love,
but that’s yet to be confirmed. Grinding gears just
to talk, shifting through awkward conversations,
but we can’t reverse all the bad things we’ve said
at those rushing high speeds.
Lovers with underwear conversations, trying to fix
what they barely understood, so unaware of what’s
really the problem. We run into relationships holding
open scissors —the result? Just another love story
cut too short.
But teach yourself to love someone new, still maybe
the lesson won’t stick. So brace for impact when they
say, "I truly love embracing you."
And I feel like Saturday news — as they talk about us
like weekend headlines. They say I left my imprint
on you, but that just comes from being pressed for
a time, rushing to report every mistake before the
feeling fades.
Needing nothing — and in the same breath, needing
each other. Yet neither of us has anything long-lasting
to give. To love someone with real deep depth while
they only offer surface depth. _Lurid entertainments._
Frozen, unflattering coitus. And quoting someone else’s
expressions because we’re too shy to speak out our own
love language.
Two people, extending their existence — but modern
love feels like this: one of us still alive in the moment,
while the other is just living in a picture without you
in the end. ////// You claimed to be bound to each
other, but it was really bound to end
Jul 24, 2025
Jul 24, 2025 at 5:36 PM UTC
You can’t be everything to everyone —
You’ll _run out of breath_ just trying to be heard.
Water dead plants with your _last drop of clean water_,
And still be called selfish for not flooding the room.
You’ll give so much; your name starts sounding
Like “_help me_.” You’ll leave the party empty,
Because you fed _Everyone but Yourself_.
And somehow, the silence you sit in is still too loud.
Even your _worth_ will start asking for validation
You yourself don’t have the strength left to give.
Be _everything to you_, before you become —
_Nothing to anyone._ Not even you.
Jul 7, 2025
Jul 7, 2025 at 6:01 AM UTC
__The greatest betrayal?__
When the positivity-giver isn’t so
positive themselves. When the light
they hand out doesn’t reach their
own shadow.
Belief in self-worth— they say it’s
your shell. But I haven’t found the
pearl that fits my shape.
Still liquid—I form myself to every
room, shape my smile to fit their
forecast. _These tears?_ Not weakness.
Just soil erosion.
Washing away what held me—
leaving me bare, unready for tomorrow’s
weight. Like the trampled flower—
I’m not phased. I remember the feet
that pressed me into the same ground
I bloomed from.
I haven’t forgotten all those soles
that stepped on my feat.
Jun 24, 2025
Jun 24, 2025 at 5:12 AM UTC
Cross my tears, lose my eyes—
these feelings fall as sadness starts to rise.
I lose my space to lose my mind; I cross
my hopes and pray they survive the night.
My joy feels too old; these skins
want to die young—tired, stretched thin
from wearing sorrow too long. I feel like
a blade that’s forgotten how to shine.
Rust gathers under my lips;
I’ve spoken too much to the voices
in my head— and all of them,
_all of them_ just want me dead.
Static feelings stuck in my sweater—
crying, even when it’s warm; cos I
don’t own a sweater, just a hoodie—
Something to cover my soul when I
feel like a ghost in daylight.
In my reflection, an invisible hand
gives me an invisible middle finger.
Even my mirror won’t look me in the eye.
These lips— they started off soft;
now they’re triggers, eager to flip
me off, shoot me down.
I am the despised poet— too hideous
even in my sweet dreams— this is
the real version of me: _unwritten,
unwanted, unmoved._
My soul’s literature is tired—
not of bleeding, but of no one
noticing it still bleeds.
And truth be told... I know the
purest colour of feeling blue.
Jun 19, 2025
Jun 19, 2025 at 9:44 AM UTC
There are days I try to summon peace — to call away
the late-night ghosts still pacing the edge of sleep.
As I wear the last tears like glass in my dry eyes,
fragile, but refusing to fall.
As I hold faith in the sunrise — though I don’t know
if this night will stretch longer than I can bear, or if
tomorrow will rise with light enough to meet me again.
And if lips are a quiet prize — not just for kissing,
but for kindness — then may they still speak, softly,
with the warmth of a life beginning again.
Jun 6, 2025
Jun 6, 2025 at 3:48 PM UTC
I just asked you few things to keep in mind,
Before you open your mouth to talk about me.
I have clearly expressed my intension to stay away from the crowd
But how come you forget this every time?
Every time?
I can't fathom this act of yours.
This running circle of arguments just because you don't listen.
I am fed up, fed up, fed up of this.
Apr 15, 2025
Apr 15, 2025 at 2:10 PM UTC
I’m tired of feeling everything all at once
They fight, I take the wounds.
I smile
A mask to hide my tears
While my heart rots with the tortured corpses
They’ll never know I’m dying
Or understand
Or care
And yet I’m scared to close the doors
For what is one moment of respite if I lose the key again?
Feb 3, 2025
Feb 3, 2025 at 10:31 PM UTC
I wanna cry.
I hope I die.
I wish my soul would drift off into the ******* sky.
You wanna know why?
Because I'm way too tired to even try.
Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 6:13 PM UTC