#lossofcontrol
I have officially lost control of my life,
My parents don't understand,
My friends don't understand,
No one understands.
But the question is,
Will anyone ever understand?
I am so alone in this war,
I have lost control of my thoughts,
Actions,
Choices,
Look,
and even feel.
I am like a emotionless, dry, unwanted and confused zombie.
If my family were to read my poems,
They still would never understand there cadging me and I need out.
I am a child of the shadows until I push myself through, and then I am pushed back.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 7:57 PM UTC
So many times I’ve given my heart.
With trust, I’ve given it all to so many people.
Purposefully or not, I’ve not gotten it back whole.
I know, some people have to leave; it’s natural, it was time.
Others chose to walk away.
I thought you were different.
I really gave you everything I could.
I wanted to be there for you forever and always.
But I’m here again, holding my broken heart and a needle and thread.
I feel like I’ve forgotten how to mend this feeling.
I’ve lost some of my strength and a lot of my control.
I hate not having control.
But I can control me.
I want to control who can and cannot leave me.
So I will not let you in, not anymore.
Not you, not anyone.
Then, I won’t have to remember how to mend this.
This brokenness won’t be a problem.
I won’t be a problem.
Not anymore.
I’m in control now.
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 3:04 PM UTC
My **** is in anonymous
kisses of some unknown shore
where the tide undulates to it’s own exotic rhythm
you can call it lust
when playing with fire becomes a necessity
working in the fields towards a better crop
in the age of reckless apathy everybody knows how to smile
having fun because it’s all that is left to do
I am caught in a vice grip
so roll up another because this room is starting to seem real
the sky is either orange or purple or something else
and my cup is far from full
you have to know yourself otherwise
when high tide rolls through you will lose yourself
to pretty cheerleaders and too many consequences
that you let slide
she isn’t very good with directions
which explains how she found herself here
laughing and saying pretty things
as the last light bulb burns out
leaving me in another self-inflicted dark room
whispering my secrets to the moon
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 9:18 AM UTC