I can't constantly be funny
or have a witty reply.
Even the sun doesn't shine all the time.
So here's me without all the lies:
On the inside I'm shy,
expectations make me wanna die,
and sometimes I just want someone
to hold me while I cry.

I cradle the moon in my hands and extend it to you.

To be swept far away, submerged in the waves

Adrift, I miss the starry night.

The past is a novel I'm working on , revising , rewriting , and discarding .

The future is a perfect Haiku I've yet to corrupt

"Write," people say.
"It'll help with the pain."
But what if every time I pick up a pencil
I only go more insane?

I stay in my depression.
I can't say I'm brave.
I'm stuck on this merry-go- round
and I no longer want to play.

It doesn't make me stronger.
It only makes me sadder.
If this goes on any longer
I know I will decay.

Writing is a reminder
of where and how I went wrong.
It reminds me of the regrets,
I'm hearing the same old song.

So when people tell me to write
I want to sit and scream.
All I ever wanted was
to leave this dreadful dream.

Take a hard look
In the mirror
Do you see
The trace
Where once
Was your face
Now is fading
Stranger in
the mirror
Don’t know
Who you are
Nothing left
But the
Broken glass
It’s never been
So clear
Why I’m
Standing here
I need to make
A change

You handcuff me to you
and hover over me,
waiting for me to make a mistake
so you can correct me and say
"I told you so."

You love me too much.
I hate you for that.
Most kids my age grew up without
both parents by their side
and make sure to remind me of
how lucky I am.
How they have it worse.

But do they have an alcoholic, abusive dad?
Do they have to stress
because they're held to a higher standard
than everyone else?
Do they have to sit out from every social event
because their parents are afraid that if they
give them a leash they'll take mile?

Maybe I'm just an ungrateful spoiled brat
or maybe they just don't wanna believe
that the grass isn't always greener
on the other side.