Because people get tired of me
Be
ing sad.
Because I only write sad;
Talk sad;
Act sad;
I guess we can cliche
And say my parents are mad
Because of the sad
They have to see every day.
I text sad;
My music is sad;
Days start to blur
Because the days that were
Spent happily
Don't come easily
To me.
I'm tired too.
But what else can I do?
I can't really say
That every day's
A bad
Day
But every day
Has its own sad
Thoughts.
It's true for you
Too,
Is it not?

Because being tall
Also means that you have to be big all
The time for those that are small.
You bend
Down to comfort a friend
Who's being
Vulnerable. All you're seeing
Is the top of their head
While you look like a god to them.
And instead
When you look for
Comfort, reassurance,
Nothing matches your size anymore.
I miss how things were before.

"Without you, I
Would probably die"
"You don't know
What it feels like" "No
I can't stop"
"Right at the top
Of that building looks nice"
"I really wanna ****
Myself"
When will
People stop telling me this?
All it does is
Make me
Worry;
If you ever **** yourself
Was it that I didn't do
Enough for you?
"You're the only one that can"
Sure, I understand
How hard it's been
(I've seen
Others of your kind)
But if you ever die
By
Your own hands the only thing on my mind
Would be
The number of times
You came to me
And my love
Wasn't enough
To help. "You're
A lifesaver"; for
How long will this be true?
For how long can I keep you
In my sight?
I could try but all my might
Will never be enough for
All of you.
It's not that I can't do
It anymore.
You tell
Me you can't hold back
So I do
The holding for you.
But unfortunately
For you and me--
My arms ache as well.

Everything has got to be the best
Nowadays. For every little test
And exam must we come out on top;
Never must we stop
Working at our every skill;
Take
A break
And everything you're good at will
Just disappear.
Everyone just
Wants what's at the top of Mt. Everest.
I guess I've got to get used to
How it works around here.
Always having to do
More than what you can.
Sometimes I just don't understand
It but every explanation
I get just adds more and more complications
To the tangled mess in my head.
I miss how things were before
Instead.
Nowadays even the karang gunis
Don't want newspapers anymore.

Because nowadays
Every feeling is a cliche.
Every tear shed;
Every bowed head;
Every face turned red;
All are cries for
Attention (the more
The better, am I right?).
And if your eyes are bright
And shining with what are
Finally not
Teardrops
Then you should think of the children far
Away in Africa or whatever,
Forever
Starving or in thirst.
Feel generous, put others first
And you're just
Showing off. But helping yourself
Isn't any nicer, I've found.
Dare upset even ground
With thoughts of anger and
You'll understand
That fury
Does no one good, yet
It still seems to be
The emotion that gets
The most coverage, makes
The most change. Go through heartbreak
And be scorned for having expectations.
Have great relation
ships and people envy you
For experiencing no complications.
I don't know what to
Feel anymore.
I've experienced the repercussions
Before.

Because all you need is
Practise
To help anybody.
See
Any
Good counsellor in action and really,
It's the same
Comforting words; same
Reassuring actions to beat the same
Game.
It's the routine stand-
Up-place-
Hand-
On-face-
Or- shoulder
To push the same boulder.
Validate the emotions. Talk
Them through walk
ing away
From whatever ruined their
Day.
Put in all your love and care;
Hold their hand; stroke their hair;
Tell them it'll all be fine;
Get them not to lose their mind;
Help them leave the past behind.
It's not a bad thing--
Isn't it reassuring
To have a one-fits-all
Solution? Fall
In and out
Of love; cry about
Exam results; your ex
Found their next
Too quickly;
Unhappy
Is all you can be--
Just go to anyone fit
And perhaps you'd come out
Even a tiny bit
Happier about life
Than you were
When you first arrived.